


5 Times Peter Went to Extremes to Keep his Identity Hidden

by marvelous_times



Series: Only this kid [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Art, Attempt at Humor, Digital Art, Endgame doesn't exist, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Bad At Tagging, Ned has the stupidest ideas but they somehow work out, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Whump, at least my attempt at art, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelous_times/pseuds/marvelous_times
Summary: (and 1 time he admitted he was Spider-Man)Featuring: Peter being stupidly self-sacrificial, Ned having ideas SO BAD that they're amazing, a slightly (or very... nobody can tell) suspicious MJ, and an extremely confused Avengers team!Now with the addition of a protective! Natasha Romanoff :)
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Only this kid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056632
Comments: 294
Kudos: 654
Collections: Peter Parker Stories





	1. To Fall or Not To Fall?

**Author's Note:**

> I own none of the characters :(

It started out as a perfectly fine, enjoyable, slightly-above-average Friday. Peter had done a successful patrol the night before, gotten a good night of dreamless sleep (which had been very rare ever since the whole… Vulture incident), woken up on time feeling quite refreshed, and even enjoyed a short breakfast with Aunt May. He had taken the subway to school and managed to avoid Flash before his morning classes (which he was on time for). He aced his Spanish test, breezed through his Chemistry assignment, and had no problem completing his Robotics challenge. 

He sat down beside Ned during lunch, and they started chatting excitedly about the new limited edition Lego S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion that Ned had just purchased. Their conversation was interrupted when MJ sat down next to them.

“‘Sup, nerds,” she said calmly. “Have either of you losers figured out where Mr. Harrington is taking us tomorrow?”

“What?” Ned asked, confused.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Remember? The ‘surprise’ team bonding activity?”

“Team bonding?” Peter echoed, evidently clueless.

“For the academic decathlon team,” MJ reminded him bluntly. “Remember how we all had to sign those forms last week for an in-state surprise activity?”

“Ohhh,” Peter said, eyes lighting up in understanding. “Crap, that’s tomorrow? Where are we going?”

MJ crossed her arms. “That’s what I was just asking,” she reminded him. “Never mind. You losers obviously have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“That’s right, we don’t,” Ned admitted. Neither Ned nor Peter was offended that MJ had called them losers; they knew it was her way of showing any type of friendship (or emotion in general).

“Maybe we’re going to the Avengers Tower?” Ned suggested. 

Peter choked on his drink in surprise. “No way,” he declared after a brief coughing fit. “Mr. Stark just re-purchased the tower; there’s no way it’s ready for a field trip.”

“Still, it’d be super cool,” Ned said. “And aren’t the Rogue Avengers coming back?”

“U-um,” Peter stuttered, “Yeah, I think so? I don’t know much…” he trailed off, unsure of what he was allowed to say on the topic. He knew that Mr. Stark had been working to revise the Accords, but he was pretty sure that the media didn’t know much about what was going on. 

MJ rolled her eyes again. “Come on, nerd. If we were going to Avengers Tower then Mr. Intern would know about it,” she said, looking at Peter as she said ‘Mr. Intern’. 

“I would,” Peter said. “...probably. But we’re not, because the Tower is still being remodeled.” Peter smiled, inwardly laughing as he remembered the furiously defeated expression on Happy’s face when he realized that he was going to have to oversee moving day again. 

“We might be going on a hike,” MJ commented idly. “I think I saw Mr. Harrington with a box full of ponchos.”

“And Mr. Harrington said it would take a few hours to drive there,” Ned added.

“Is that why he asked me to teach him how to use a compass?” Peter said.

“Probably,” MJ said. She shrugged nonchalantly and pulled out a book. 

Peter was pretty sure that this was one of the longest conversations he’d ever had with MJ; honestly, he felt like their friendship was slowly progressing. Which kind of made him... happy (not that he’d admit it to anyone). 

......... 

Mr. Harrington gathered the team together after school to announce the location of their ‘team bonding’ day. “Okay, team,” he said, “tomorrow you must come prepared with hiking shoes, a sack lunch, water bottles, comfortable clothes, and a cheerful attitude! Because we’re going... hiking!”

The group was silent, having already figured out the fact that they were going hiking. 

“Where?” MJ asked bluntly.

“Oh, yes, right,” Mr. Harrington said. “We’re going to... Taughannock Falls!”

“Taughannock Falls?” Ned echoed. “That’s over 4 hours away!”

“Well, that’s why we’re leaving at 6 tomorrow morning!” Mr. Harrington said. When everyone groaned, he continued. “It’ll be a great team bonding activity! I even ordered matching Midtown ponchos!”

God, that sounded embarrassing. Peter glanced at Ned and saw his own horrified expression mirrored on his best friend’s face. 

“It might be raining,” Mr. Harrington continued, oblivious to the team’s lack of enthusiasm, “so the ponchos will certainly come in handy! And, even better, Taughannock Creek is flooding, so the falls are even more spectacular than normal!” 

“Yay,” Abraham grumbled sarcastically. 

“Well, you better get home and prepare,” Mr. Harrington said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, bright and early! Bus leaves from here at 6!” 

As he walked away, Flash turned toward Peter. “Great, now I have to spend nine hours with you, Penis,” he sneered. “Don’t you have a fancy Stark internship to be at? Oh wait, I forgot, it’s fake!”

MJ narrowed her eyes. “Shut up, Eugene,” she said idly in her perfect monotone. “I’d prefer to have to listen to you as little as possible between today and tomorrow.” 

Flash stammered a bit, then decided it was better to not argue with MJ. He turned away and rudely pushed past Peter, slamming him into the locker. “See ya, Penis!” he called. “Taughannock Falls are over 200 feet tall; if we get lucky, maybe you’ll fall in and drown!”

Peter sighed, and Ned patted his back sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Peter,” his friend said. “I’d rather Flash drown than you any day.”

Peter let out a small laugh. “Thanks, Ned,” he said, slightly sarcastically. “Good to know.” He waved goodbye to his friend as Ned’s mom pulled up, and left to go get some patrolling in before he got home. 

.........

The next day, the drowsy members of the Academic Decathlon team piled onto the yellow school bus that was waiting for them. In contrast to his overwhelming enthusiasm from the day before, Mr. Harrington was clearly tired, grumpy, and ready to nap the second he got on the bus. The only one of them who didn’t seem tired was MJ, who casually opened a book on the bus and greeted Peter and Ned with her usual, “‘Sup, nerds.”

Peter yawned, combing his hands through his wavy brown hair. Patrol last night had been fine; he saved a surprisingly aggressive cat, stopped a few attempted muggings, and saved a drunk driver from driving into East River. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep before his alarm had woken him up and he groggily changed into joggers and a t-shirt (it said: I was addicted to the Hokey-Pokey, but then I turned myself around). He had stuffed a drawstring bag with lunch, his water bottle, and a sweatshirt, then grabbed his phone (skipping breakfast, he was late!) before May gave him a ride to Midtown.

Ned looked only slightly tired and had insisted on showing a mortified Peter a trending YouTube video that was titled “Watch: 10 Times Spider-Man Swung into a Wall”. Peter groaned and put his head in his hands as Ned laughed. “Okay, I was only distracted because there were little baby pigeons in that nest on the windowsill of the building,” Peter argued. “They were so cute!”

“So you were so distracted by baby pigeons that you swung face-first into the brick wall of an apartment building,” Ned summarized. Peter shrugged.

“Guilty as charged. To be fair, they were really cute and wrinkly.”

“What was cute and wrinkly?” Flash called. “Something you wanna tell us, Penis?”

Peter blushed as a few of his teammates laughed and the rest groaned. “Shut up, Flash,” Peter said. He was too tired to realize the repercussions of telling Flash to shut up, but the bully was clearly angry.

“What did you say, Parker?” he said menacingly. 

Peter sighed. “Never mind,” he mumbled. He didn’t want to give Flash another reason to punch him, because it wasn’t like he could fight back; he just had to sit and take the punishment. 

Flash folded his arms. “You’d better watch it, Parker,” he growled. Peter rolled his eyes and ignored the bully. He leaned against the window and dozed off. 

As usual, the second Peter fell asleep he saw a jumble of mixed images; the Vulture, concrete, flying through the air. His whole body tensed, and he jolted awake, sweaty and gasping.

“Woah, man, you alright?” Ned said, concerned. 

“Wh- oh,” Peter said. He sat down quickly as his teammates turned to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quietly. 

Ned knew better than to press his friend, so he let the matter drop. “Well,” he said, “we’re about only a few minutes away from wherever the hike begins, and Mr. Harrington wanted to, uh, give us some instructions for the hike, or something like that?”

“Instructions?” Peter repeated.

“Ahem, class,” Mr. Harrington called, now looking more awake after drinking a large thermos of coffee. “I know that last field trip that we took was a bit… hectic, so I think it’s smart to go over some safety reminders.” He cleared his throat and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

“The hike is about three and a half miles long. We will be walking through the forest, then, a bit over three miles in, crossing a bridge that sits 170 feet above the river. After the bridge, you only have to walk for another third of a mile before you get to the viewpoint for the 215-foot-tall waterfall. It is important that we stick together, so nobody gets lost in the woods. Avoid getting too close to the edge of the bridge, because it raises the risk of falling into the creek. The creek is normally fairly shallow, so under normal circumstances, falling into it from 170 feet would most likely be fatal. However, the river is now completely flooded and is roughly five times its normal depth. Regardless of this, a fall from the bridge might still be fatal.”

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat once again, then continued. “Avoid disrupting the natural wildlife. Do not litter. We are on this hike to bond as a Decathlon team, so spend time with each other. Um… that’s all.”

His dull speech was followed by a few moments of sarcastic applause from Abraham. “Okay, group, it looks like we have arrived,” Mr. Harrington said. The teenagers filed out of the bus, and took turns using the bathrooms at the foot of the hike, then began on their trek. 

The forest was beautiful, the birds were chirping, and yes, it was a good team bonding experience, but Peter was still a bit disappointed. He could’ve been working in the lab with Mr. Stark (well, if he’d been invited, which had only happened a few times) if Mr. Harrington had chosen a closer destination. Still, Peter let himself enjoy the hike, chatting with Ned, avoiding Flash, and watching MJ out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to be enjoying herself; she talked with Peter a bit and spent the walk looking for some hidden grave that was said to be located on this hike. 

After about an hour of walking, they had finally reached the bridge. Peter peered over the edge at the swollen river that was rushing below them. It was much, much deeper than it had been in the photos he’d looked at, due to the rain and flooding. The current seemed to be strong; he saw several large logs being whisked downstream. 

“This bridge was renovated fourteen years ago,” Mr. Harrington stated. “The bridge is considered an inspiring landmark for hikers to remind them that they are close to the waterfall.”

Thank goodness they were close; Peter was _starving_. His enhanced metabolism required him to eat much more than a normal human, and he was looking forward to sitting down to eat lunch. 

They got to the bridge, Peter walking up to the side of the bridge to gaze at the beautiful river. He was wondering why his spider-sense was tingling, but that mystery was solved when he saw Flash strutting up to stand beside him. 

“Scared, Parker?” the bully taunted him. “Don’t piss yourself, none of us want to deal with that on the ride back.”

Peter frowned. Why was his spider-sense going crazy? He concentrated, listening intently to the sounds around him while tuning out Flash. Was he imagining the faint creaking sound coming from under Flash’s feet? Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or were there faint cracks spreading through the bridge?

“Parker? Are you ignoring me?” Flash crossed his arms. “Parke-”

Peter’s spider-sense _screamed_ , and Peter shoved Flash aside right as the wood beneath Flash’s feet collapsed. The bully landed, stunned, on a stable piece of wood to Peter’s right, while the rotten wood below Peter’s feet gave out and he started to fall. Peter lashed out an arm and managed to grasp onto a portion of the bridge, but it was starting to give out under his weight. 

Just as it collapsed, Flash dove forward and grabbed Peter’s wrist. Someone screamed, and Peter forced himself to stay calm as he dangled from the bridge. Flash was slowly sliding forward, and Peter realized if Flash didn’t let go, both Flash and him were going to find themselves in the river. Maybe… Peter could easily stick to the bridge or flip himself up over the side of the bridge, but to do that would probably lead to the team figuring out his identity.

“I’ve got you, Parker,” Flash grunted, but they both knew that was a lie. Flash was a second from going over the edge and the rest of the team was too far to reach him. Peter could see MJ and Mr. Harrington running toward Flash, but if they got any closer, all of the wood would collapse and they’d all fall into the river. A fatal fall for most, but… Peter could probably survive it. He turned his head and made eye contact with MJ. 

Peter made his decision, then, while letting out a little sigh, breathed, “Sorry, Flash,” and then twisted his wrist slightly so Flash couldn’t hold him any longer. Peter heard screaming and someone yelling his name, but everything else became a blur as he plunged toward the rushing river.  
......... 

Ned watched in horror as his best friend dangled above the rushing river. “No, Peter,” he whispered as he saw Peter force himself out of Flash’s grip so the latter wouldn’t fall as well. Peter and his stupid secret identity; if he didn’t have to hide that he was Spider-Man, Ned knew that Peter could’ve easily flipped up to the bridge or stuck to it or _something_. Ned could only pray that his best friend wouldn’t get hurt.

......... 

A yell drew Michelle’s attention to the scene on the bridge. She turned and sprinted toward Flash, but since she had already stepped off of the bridge, she couldn’t get to Peter in time. The stupid, selfless idiot made eye contact with Michelle for a brief moment before twisting his wrist, forcing Flash to let go of him so they didn’t both tumble into the river. “Peter!” Michelle screamed, unable to do anything as she watched her friend fall into the unforgiving grasp of the river.

.........

Mr. Harrington froze for a moment as he took in the scene in front of him. God, not again. He couldn’t lose another student.

......... 

Flash felt himself being pulled forward, the rotting planks under his feet crumbling under his and Parker’s weight. “I’ve got you, Parker,” he said, his voice strained. He wasn’t going to let the nerd die, even if it ended up with him falling into the river. 

Parker glanced toward Michelle, then looked up at Flash. “Sorry, Flash,” he whispered, then twisted his wrist. 

“No!” Flash yelled, lunging forward to catch the falling teenager. But he was too late, and could only watch as Peter plunged into the river. 

.........

Bracing himself for impact, Peter pulled his arms toward his body and brought his legs together so they wouldn’t break upon impact. 

Peter hit the water hard, slicing through and almost touching the bottom before the current of the water wrenched him to the side. He gasped at the impact with the freezing water, coughing as he inhaled a mouthful of it. The river tossed him around, and his head briefly broke the surface, allowing him to get a gulp of air. 

He yelped as his right leg scraped against an extremely sharp rock, slicing his skin along his thigh. Peter vaguely remembered something he had heard from when he went river rafting with Uncle Ben- if you fall into the river, try and maneuver so you’re going feet-first to avoid the risk of knocking yourself out on a rock. Peter tried to do so, spluttering and gasping as the river pulled him along.

He was being dragged downriver, and he was now out of sight of the bridge. Peter tried to stick to a rock so he could pull himself out of the river, but he wasn’t able too. He could hear an odd roaring sound coming from up ahead-

Oh.

Shit.

Peter frantically grabbed at any rocks that he could see, but the river was too powerful and they were too slick for him to grasp. All Peter could do was brace himself as he was dragged over the edge of the cliff.

He flew down the waterfall, his senses barely picking up on the screams and yells from the tourists on the vantage point. Although he was absolutely terrified, part of him was in awe at the fact that he was currently free-falling down one of the tallest waterfalls on the East Coast; it definitely wasn’t something that most people got to experience. 

The awe was quickly replaced by fear and he hit the water at an awkward angle, his left shoulder smacking against the surface. A jolt of pain ran up his arm, and he groggily realized that he’d dislocated his shoulder. Luckily, the pool at the bottom of the fall was fairly deep, so his back barely scraped the rocks at the bottom of the falls.

Peter tried to swim to the top of the pool, using his legs to propel him because of his dislocated arm (which hurt like hell). He inhaled a mouthful of water and choked, coughing as his head finally broke the surface of the water. Spluttering, Peter managed to make his way to the edge of the pool, finally collapsing in a shallower area. His right thigh stung, but Peter ignored the deep gash on his leg as he closed his eyes, groaning. He was _freezing_ , unable to stop himself from shivering, and weak and exhausted. 

Stupid secret identity.

He was so tired… so cold… 

Peter closed his eyes, and everything went black. 

.........

“Oh my- oh my God!”

A tourist and her husband had climbed down to the bottom of the waterfall when they saw Peter. The woman reached Peter first- she ran to him and then paused, evidently unsure of what to do. Her husband was only steps behind her, and he kneeled next to Peter, and expertly took his pulse. 

“Call 911,” he ordered, then inspected the kid’s injuries. The man professionally wrapped the gash in Peter’s thigh, then narrowed his eyes as he noticed how Peter was trembling and the blue tinge of the boy’s lips. The man wrapped his jacket around Peter, aware that they had to warm the kid up or risk serious hypothermia. 

Peter jolted awake as the man touched his dislocated shoulder. “Ahh!” he yelled, then winced as his shoulder throbbed.

The man held his hands up, concerned. “Don’t worry, kid, you’re going to be okay. The medics are coming, but your shoulder is dislocated and I need to pop it back into place so it doesn’t heal incorrectly. Don’t worry, I’m a professional,” he said, with a faint smile.

Peter coughed, then nodded his head. “Okay, okay,” he rasped. “Thank you.”

“No problem, kid,” the man said gently, then continued. “Okay, this is going to hurt, but I’m going to do it quickly.” He positioned himself next to the teenager, then swiftly popped the dislocated shoulder back into place. Peter bit back a yell, clenching his jaw and shivering profusely. The pain receded dramatically after his shoulder was back in its proper place.

“Th-thank you,” Peter stammered, “th-that’s much b-better.” 

The man smiled. “Can you walk?” he asked gently. When Peter nodded, the man helped Peter stand and walk out of the water. “My name’s Joey,” the man said conversationally. “That’s my wife, Emma.”

“I’m P-Peter Parker,” Peter said, shivering. 

“Do you know if you have any other injuries?” Joey asked gently. When Peter shook his head, the man sighed in relief. “Well,” he continued, “you’re suffering from mild hypothermia, so we’re going to have to take your wet sweatshirt and shirt off.”

Joey helped him out of his wet sweatshirt, and Peter breathed a grateful prayer of relief that he hadn’t worn his suit under his clothes. Joey helped Peter into one of his own sweatshirts, and Peter thanked the man again. 

He turned to see his classmates and teachers sprinting down toward him, pale faces evident even from a distance. He smiled weakly as they approached him, wincing slightly as Ned and MJ both gave him a huge hug.

“Dude!” Ned yelled. “Oh my GOD, are you okay? You just fell down a _waterfall_! You saved Flash’s life!”

MJ just hugged him and said quietly, “I’m glad you’re alive, nerd.” But Peter could see the relief in her eyes. 

Clearly uncomfortable, Flash approached Peter as Mr. Harrington was fussing over the latter. “Uh,” Flash began, clearing his throat, “Thank you, Parker. You… you saved me. I’m sorry for… well, thanks.”

Peter grinned. Everything had turned out okay, his classmates were safe, and his identity was hidden. 

Now the only thing he had to worry about was the scolding May was going to give him when he got home.

Honestly, he’d rather have another go at the waterfall than suffer through _that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear comments and ideas and criticism and inspiration!!! And please leave a kudos if you want :)
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading!


	2. Let’s Go, Tigers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has to do a very... unusual stakeout to try and keep his classmates safe.

_Thwip!_

“Mmph!” A man dressed in dark clothes protested wordlessly when his mouth was webbed shut. 

“Mmph to you too, sir!” Spider-Man replied, then folded his arms. “Wait. Is mmph a good thing or a bad thing? Are you trying to compliment me, or diss me?”

“MMPH,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. 

“Ah, that clears it up,” Peter said. “In that case, I think you need to mmph-ing re-think your life, Mister. It’s pretty mmph-ing pathetic to try and rob people with a crowbar, don’t you think?”

“Mmph mmph mmph,” the man growled. Peter nodded thoughtfully.

“Good talk. Enjoy jail!”

The web-slinger jumped up onto the wall, saluting the approaching policemen as he crawled out of sight. He swung from building to building, finally choosing to perch on the edge of the new Marriott hotel. 

“Any action, Karen?”

**“There was a burglary three blocks down, but it looks like the police have already taken care of it.”**

“Huh, okay. I’ll just… wait, I guess.”

**“Incoming call from: Tony Stark. Would you like to answer the call?”**

“Yeah, sure, Karen.” 

“Hey, Underoos,” Tony’s voice came through the suit. “How’s patrol going? Saved any cats?”

Peter paused, confused. Mr. Stark had never just randomly called him during patrol; if he tried to call Peter, it was always because Peter had been shot or stabbed or something (which, in his defense, had only happened a few times). 

“Um, I’m good, thanks, Mr. Stark. And… no, I haven’t saved any cats today. I’m just… doing my regular patrol?” 

“Well… that’s good,” Tony replied awkwardly. The billionaire cleared his throat. “Look, I just wanted to let you know that we’re going to have to push the Friday lab date back a bit because I’m expecting some… visitors on Friday.”

Peter nodded, then realized that Mr. Stark couldn’t see him. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine,” he said, then thought for a minute. “Oh my God, are the Rogue Avengers moving back in?”

Peter thought he could hear Mr. Stark’s grimace over the phone. “Yeah, kid, they are. I just want to make sure that everything goes smoothly.”

“I can come, too, if you want!” Peter interjected, excited. “I’d love to meet the Rogue Avengers!”

Tony chuckled. “Yes, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” the billionaire commented dryly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to meet them soon,” Tony amended. “I just want to make the move back in for them as normal as I can, and that means limiting any surprises, like the fact that there’s a freaky Spider-Kid who’s practically moved into the Compound and the Tower.” He didn’t include the fact that he wanted to keep Peter as far away from Rogers as he could because he could only _imagine_ the argument that would follow of Capsicle realized that Spider-Man was only 16 years old.

“Okay, I _guess_ that makes sense,” Peter grumbled. 

“Kid, you can pout when I can’t hear you,” Tony teased. Peter rolled his eyes, and Tony added, “I can practically hear you rolling your eyes, Underoos.”

Peter let out a little laugh. “Okay, _okay_ , Mr. Stark,” he said playfully. 

Tony smiled. “Well, I’ll see you soon, kid. Now go save some cats. And get to bed before midnight!” He ended the call as Peter snorted in amusement.

 **“Call with Tony Stark has ended,”** Karen said smoothly. Peter stood up and stretched his arms.

“Perfect, Karen.”

Peter paused when he heard a faint _clang_ coming from an alleyway a few buildings down. The costumed teenager leaped up and swung a from building to building, pausing to crouch on a balcony above the commotion. Below him stood two men next to a trash can that had been knocked over.

“Damn it!” one of the men yelled and proceeded to kick the trash can again, resulting in the same noise. 

“Calm _down_!” the other man hissed, glancing around warily to see if they were being watched. 

“How can I be calm? You just told me that Boss ordered you to hold a high school _hostage_ during a freaking basketball game! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

Peter tensed, crouching lower on the balcony. “Karen, make sure you’re recording this,” he whispered.

“’s not that I told you,” the second man argued quietly. “I said I heard a _rumor_ that was g’nna happen. You nev’r know what Hammerhead’s plannin’ ‘till it happens. List’n, Donny, let’s jus’ say I heard it through the gr’pevine, ‘kay? And I thought you’d wanna know.”

 _Ohmygod his name is Donny that’s_ such _an Italian gang member name_ , Peter thought. 

“Yeah, well, thanks,” Donny grumbled. He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be part of anything where we’re holding kids hostage. Just… I’m gonna lay low for a bit, okay?”

The other man shook his head. “If you say so, Don. But if ya change your mind… we’ll be at Midtown School o’ Science and Tech, or somethin’ like that.”

Peter froze. What?

Donny rubbed his forehead. “Really, Johnny?”

Despite the fact that Peter had learned that his school was about to be a gang target, he couldn’t help but think _Their names are Johnny and Donny? This is the best thing I’ve ever heard!_

“Wha’?” Johnny said, confused.

Donny sighed. “You’re targeting a science high school? The poor nerds will probably wet themselves when you guys storm in.”

Johnny shrugged. “’s an expensive school, so parents can pay high’r ransom fees. An’ways, we might not even be holdin’ that school hostage; ‘s jus’ a rumor.”

The two men continued to argue as they left, leaving a tipped-over trash can and a confused teenager behind. 

Peter climbed up to the roof of the apartment to think. He could contact the police, but they weren’t going to help him unless he had concrete proof (he’d learned that from experience). If he even stepped foot in a police station, they’d try to arrest him on the spot (he’d also learned _that_ from experience). He didn’t want to bother Mr. Stark with something as small as a hostage situation while he was all stressed about the Rogue Avengers moving in, so… Peter would have to handle this one by himself. 

“Karen,” Peter said, “Call Ned.”

 **“Calling Ned Leeds, AKA Awesome Bro in the Chair,”**.

“Hey, Peter, what’s up?” Ned picked up almost immediately. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve been stabbed again because I swear that I’m still traumatized from that-”

“Wha- no, Ned, I haven’t been stabbed!”

“Okay, good. Although, in my defense, the last time you called me randomly at 11:45 while you were patrolling _was_ because you were stabbed, so…”

Peter sighed. “Whatever, that’s irrelevant. No, I’m actually calling because… I was shot.”

“WHAT?” Ned cried loudly. “Are you okay??? Where- what-”

“Jeez, Ned, I’m joookinnng,” Peter interrupted. 

He could hear Ned huffing unhappily. “That is so _not cool_ , Peter.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter said quickly. “I couldn’t help myself. Anyways, take a look at this video I’m about to send you- these guys were talking about a rumor that they heard that their gang leader was going to have them hold Midtown hostage during tomorrow’s basketball game.”

“That’s… kind of a stupid plan,” Ned said. “Everyone knows that barely anyone goes to the basketball games.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Peter responded. “Anyways, I was wondering if you… had any ideas on how to, uh, deal with this, because the police will probably ignore it and I can’t bother Mr. Stark with this right now.”

“Well, why don’t you just take care of it?” Ned suggested.

“How?” Peter asked, frustrated. “If Spider-Man is just sitting in the crowd with everyone else, watching the game, won’t that seem super suspicious?”

“It’s not like you ever go to basketball games, Peter,” Ned responded. “Nobody would guess your identity. Probably.”

“No- what I meant was, well, I want to catch these idiots who think that it’s a good idea to hold a high school hostage, but I can’t just wait there as Spidey because they won’t go through with it when they see me there.”

“Well, what if you hide outside of the school and come in after they do?”

“I can’t do that, either,” Peter responded. “If they’re able to organize themselves, they could risk hurting one of the students.”

Ned sighed. “Well, the best thing to do would be to be inside the gym before it happens, then attack the gang members once they come in.”

“How would I do that?” Peter replied. “The gym is wide open; there’s nowhere for Spider-Man to hide. And I can’t just go as Peter, because that’d risk revealing my identity if I just… Spidey-d out, you know what I mean?”

“Right,” Ned said. “Number one rule: Don’t let anyone know that you’re Spider-Man.” Ned was silent for a moment, evidently thinking hard. Then he gasped in excitement.

“Peter! I have the perfect plan!”

..........

“This is a terrible plan,” Peter groaned, already humiliated. It was Friday, half an hour before the basketball game was going to start. Peter and Ned were standing together in front of the cheer closet, where an extra costume of Midtown’s mascot, Terry the Tiger, stood in front of the two friends. 

“It’s brilliant, Mr. Parker, don’t even try and deny it,” Ned said threateningly. 

“No, no, no, Ned, this is _not_ a good idea!” Peter said emphatically. “It’s not like I have any school spirit to begin with- what am I even supposed to do?”

Ned sighed. “Have you ever gone to a basketball game? No? Football? Baseball?”

Peter scratched his head. “I think I went to a soccer game once?”

“Peter, Peter,” Ned said slowly, “Nobody goes to the soccer games. They don’t even have the mascots there.”

“Oh.” Peter shrugged. “Well, Ned, that proves my point! This is so embarrassing… I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry, I just-”

“Nope!” Ned said, interrupting Peter’s weak excuses. “This is a brilliant plan, and it’s foolproof. Get in your suit and hide in the Terry suit, then beat up the bad guys when they bust into the gym. And this way, nobody will even begin to suspect that you’re Peter Parker.”

Peter groaned. “Fine,” he said, glad that his mask would at least cover his blushing cheeks. He quickly changed in the closet while Ned stood watch, then gingerly climbed into the Terry suit. Before he put on the tiger head, Ned snapped a quick photo. 

“Ha!” Ned said triumphantly. “That’s great blackmail material.”

Peter playfully shoved his best friend, narrowing his eyes in fake anger. He grudgingly put on the head of the costume, already overheating in the thick material. “Okay, ha, ha.”

Ned and Peter walked toward the gym, and Ned was about to leave to go home (where he’d be talking to Peter) when a voice cut in.

“Hey, loser,” MJ said, nodding to Ned. Ned froze, then slowly pivoted to face the girl.

“H-Hi, MJ!” he said, with fake enthusiasm. “Are you going to the game?”

MJ shook her head. “Nope, just grabbing my chem textbook that I accidentally left under my seat. Why, are you going to the game? I thought you were too lame for that sort of thing.”

“Uh, y-yeah, I am,” Ned stuttered. “I was just… getting my math textbook?”

MJ raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Whatever,” she said. “Where’s Parker?”

“Who?” Ned said.

“Your best friend? The nerd who you hang out with every day?”

“Oh, _that_ Parker. Uh. Peter, I mean. Yeah, he’s, uh, at his internship.”

“Whatever,” MJ said, emotionless. She smirked slightly as she glanced at the walking Terry the Tiger next to Ned. “Have fun doing whatever you’re doing, Ned.” She looked at Peter. “You too, loser. Go get ‘em, Tiger,” she said sarcastically, smiling slightly as she walked away from the pair.

Ned and Peter watched silently as she walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, Peter turned toward Ned. “Real smooth,” he whispered. “Do you think she knows that I’m Terry?”

Ned shrugged. “I doubt it. Not like she’d care, anyways.”

They could hear chattering and cheers as people started to gather for the basketball game. Ned clapped Peter on the back. “Good luck!” he said cheerfully. “I’ll patch in as soon as I get home.”

Peter waved. “See you later,” he said gloomily. He was planning on sneaking inside and hiding in plain sight, but unfortunately, a member of Midtown’s very small cheer squad caught up with Peter as he was walking toward the back exit of the gym.

“Come on,” she hissed. “You’re here for Ken, right? Because he’s sick?”

Peter, unsure of what to do, just nodded, and she looked satisfied. “Good,” she said. “Just go in, get the crowd hyped, and do a few flips or something.”

“I-” Peter began but was cut off by the girl. 

“Shh! Mascots don’t talk!” she reminded him. 

Peter sighed, then walked through the entrance doors of the gym. He was going to kill Ned. This was the worst stakeout _ever_.

Peter jogged into the gym and faced the ‘crowd’. If Hammerhead’s men actually showed up, they’d realize that this was the stupidest idea. Why would they want to hold 40 teenagers and their overenthusiastic parents hostage? Couldn’t they have just robbed a bank instead? Weren’t Italian crime lords supposed to be smart? Could they not have realized that barely anyone attended these stupid games?

The few students and family members that were there were cheering for him, so Peter ran around and did a few flips and handsprings. They cheered for him, so Peter did a few more flips and impressive twists. 

_Look at me now, Mr. Stark,_ the teen thought wryly. _Your amazing, friendly neighborhood Spider-Mascot_.

Peter jogged off to the side to sit and watch for any suspicious activity. The cheer girls gave him a thumbs-up, and he waved at them as he sat down in the stuffy suit. Ned must have finally reached his house because he called Peter. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ned asked.

“Nothing much has happened yet,” Peter answered.

“Maybe it was just a fake rumor?” Ned suggested.

Right as he finished speaking the doors of the gym were kicked open and six men wearing dark clothes and holding guns filed into the gym. “Everybody put your hands up!” one of the men hollered. “Drop your phones, and shut up!”

Peter sprang into action. “Sorry, sir, no can do!” he yelled as he jumped and kicked one man in the face. Peter stumbled a bit as he landed, forgetting that he still had the costume on. Whoops… that meant no web-shooters. 

“Everyone get out of here!” Peter yelled, knocking over a man that had lifted his gun to shoot him. The students were watching in shock as their mascot, Terry the Tiger, single-handedly knocked out three of the gang members. A few students were filming, crouched behind the door even though Peter yelled at them to leave. 

One of the gang members managed to land a punch, but Peter didn’t even feel it through the thick suit. Still, he needed his web-shooters, so he popped the head of the costume off and jumped out of the Terry suit, twisting midair and firing his web-shooters so he took two of the men’s guns. 

Peter flipped backward and kicked one man as he pivoted and webbed the last one to the wall. As the man were crumpled on the ground, groaning, Peter walked over and confiscated all of their guns. 

“I’ll have to take those off of your hands, thank you very much,” Peter said. “It’s really what you deserve, considering you just tried to take a very small crowd hostage.”

Ned was cheering through the phone. “Great job, Spider-Man! And nobody was hurt! I called the police like we planned, they should be there any second now that other students called them too…”

Right on cue, New York’s Finest stormed through the gym and took in the sight in front of them. Spider-Man stood in the middle of the gym, surrounded by webbed-up gang members, guns scattered across the floor, and an abandoned Terry the Tiger costume.

Spider-Man saluted the policemen as he jumped over their heads. “You missed a great game, folks!” 

As Peter swung away, he pleaded with Ned. “Now, Ned, _please_ delete that photo of me in the Terry costume, man!”

Ned did his best evil laugh impression. “Never, young Spider. We will always remember your days as Terry the Tiger!”

Peter groaned. If Mr. Stark ever found out, he’d _never_ hear the end of this one.


	3. Spiders and Guns Don’t Mix (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Attention, students. We are going into lockdown. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is _not_ a drill. We have three active shooters in the building, located near the West entrance of the scho-” 
> 
> _Thud._ The speaker silenced after the sound, but all of the students could hear a gunshot and several faint screams. 
> 
> “Oh. My. God.” Betty whispered.
> 
> Peter had to get out there to help and stop anyone else from getting hurt (or worse). However, things turned out to be a bit more difficult, as he had to stop the shooters as Peter Parker, not as Spider-Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will be a two-parter! Hope you enjoy :)

Sometimes, a very selfish part of Peter wished he could pull a Tony Stark and just tell the whole world that he was Spider-Man. It’d make his life _So. Much. Easier._

Stupid responsibility. 

Peter let out a small sigh as he sat next to Ned, huddled beneath his desk. His day had actually started out pretty well; he had gotten a couple of hours of patrol in before school, saved a cat, stopped an attempted burglary, got to school on time, and _aced_ his Spanish test (preterite vs. imperfect, ugh). And, even _better_ , he had plans to go work with Mr. Stark in his workshop after school. Even though he’d already gone a few times, the novelty of it still hadn’t worn off.

He got to work in Mr! Stark’s! Personal! Workshop! 

So cool. 

However, his almost perfect day was abruptly ruined when the PA speaker crackled to life. 

“Attention, students. We are going into lockdown. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is _not_ a drill. We have three active shooters in the building, located near the West entrance of the scho-” 

_Thud._ The speaker silenced after the sound, but all of the students could hear a gunshot and several faint screams. 

“Oh. My. God.” Betty whispered.

Their teacher, Mr. Harrington, his face pale, cleared his throat before barking out a quiet command. “Okay, everyone, we need to stay calm. The shooters are currently on the other side of the school, so we have time to, uh, lock the door, turn off the lights, pull the blinds down, and…” he hesitated, then continued, “get under the desks in the farthest corner of the room.”

Although clearly terrified, the students leapt into action, most of them following Mr. Harrington’s directions, while a few of the students ran to the back of the room to hide. Peter was on the verge of sprinting out of the door, but he knew that he couldn’t just disappear and reappear as Spider-Man. That’d be way too suspicious. 

Peter paused, unsure of what to do. He turned to Ned. “I need to get out there,” he hissed. “But…”

“It could expose your identity,” Ned finished. Peter’s best friend thought for a moment. “Peter… there’s not anything you can do! It’s _way_ too dangerous for you to go out, especially without your suit. Those people have _guns_ , Peter, they could kill you!”

“And if I don’t help, they’ll be killing other people instead!” Peter snapped, trying to keep his voice down. “Look, Ned, I’ll be fine. I’ve handled _way_ worse, ok?”

“ _You won’t have your suit_!” Ned argued, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening to their conversation.

“The suit doesn’t give me my powers, Ned!” Peter quickly replied, growing impatient. “Every second I spend here could mean one of my classmates dying! It could be Cindy, or Abraham, or- or MJ! I can’t just hide under these tables, waiting for someone to rescue me!”

“I get that, Peter, I do, but please stay here!” Ned pleaded. 

Peter looked at his friend, his face serious. “Ned, I can catch a car with my _bare hands_. A couple guns aren’t a problem. Come on, dude, you gotta trust me on this.”

Ned groaned quietly. “No, Peter, I can’t. This is insane; you don’t have your suit, you can’t use your powers, you can’t do anything!”

Peter shrugged. “I heal fast. Besides, my spidey-sense can help warn me, and I’m still strong!”

Ned shook his head. “It’s not safe, Peter!”

Peter sighed. He _knew_ it wasn’t going to be safe, but it wasn’t like he had another choice. He could easily take out the school shooters if he was Spider-Man, but there was no way he could risk sneaking out and changing into his suit; it’d be way too obvious. However, Spider-Man or not, Peter still had a responsibility, and he wasn't going to hide just because he didn’t have a suit to protect him. 

“You can’t stop me, Ned,” Peter said softly. He felt a little guilty for ignoring his friend’s opinion like this, but there was nothing else he could do. “I have to go. Now.”

Ned groaned again, then put his head in his hands. “Peter… just… be careful.” 

“You too, man,” Peter responded, his voice cracking a little.

Ned took a deep breath, then flipped over the table he was hiding under. The loud _bang_ caused the other students, who were already on edge, to scream in alarm and surprise, creating a distraction for Peter to unlock the door and slip out of the room. 

Once everybody calmed down the students crept back to the far end of the room. The room was silent when Betty piped up. 

“Is… why is the door unlocked?”

Ned’s classmates gasped when they too realized that the door was unlocked. Cursing under his breath, Mr. Harrington sprinted to the door and hastily bolted it shut again. He turned back to his students, opened his mouth to assure them that they were safe, then paused.

“Wait… where’s Peter?”

.............

Peter Parker crept the halls of Midtown. Every student was in a classroom, so the school felt oddly abandoned. He knew the shooters were near the West entrance, so that was a start. He had to get to them before they could hurt anyone. 

Unless they already had. Peter’s stomach twisted in fear at the thought, and he shook his head, willing himself to focus. He had to figure out how to stop the shooters without revealing his identity. 

The best way to take them out without an obvious show of his powers would be to pick them off one by one. He silently headed toward the West entrance, where his enhanced hearing was picking up voices. 

“Oh, God, please no!” someone sobbed. 

“Why?” another person whimpered, their voice filled with fear.

“Shut up, brats,” a deeper male voice replied. “Why, you ask? Why am I here? Because I fucking feel like it!” he roared. 

Peter picked up his pace, running toward the voices. His heart pounding, Peter cautiously peered around the corner of the wall, where he saw a lanky man, stinking of marijuana, holding a gun and standing in the doorway to a classroom. Peter couldn’t see any other shooters nearby, which was good. 

_whatshouldIdowhatshouldIdo…_

He could try and formulate a plan to take the shooter down, but he didn’t have time for that. The man raised his gun to shoot the students, who were cowered behind their desks. Before he could fire, Peter, deciding that he was out of other options, jumped and tackled the man with the gun. 

“Parker?” he heard Jason gasp. Several other students screamed or shouted in surprise when Peter, the shooter, and the gun went skidding across the floor.

“Lock the door!” Peter gasped as he lunged for the gun. 

“But-” Jason stammered.

“ _Close the door!_ ” Peter gasped as he kicked the shooter in the stomach and dove for the door, slamming it shut. He was relieved when he heard the lock click from the inside, and jumped back as his spidey-sense flared. 

“You little brat,” the man hissed. “What are you trying to do, play hero? I’ll kill you and then kill everyone else in this damn school.”

“Sure you will,” Peter replied conversationally. “But it might be harder to do that without… this!”

He squeezed the base of the gun and then twisted it, making sure the end was pointed away from him. Just as he’d hoped, the gun came apart and fell into a few pieces. Peter pocketed one of the pieces so the shooter couldn’t reassemble his gun, silently thanking YouTube tutorials. 

“It worked!” Peter cried triumphantly. “Just like Jackie Chan in that old movie Rush Hour!”

“Oh my… I hate children,” the man growled. “1998 doesn’t qualify as old, you idiot.” He slowly advanced toward Peter, who had his back to the wall. Peter’s spider-sense was going off, but he didn’t know why. The other shooters were too far away to see him, and he had disabled this guy’s gun!

Answering his question, the man grabbed Peter by the throat, pinning him against the wall. Peter sighed. He could easily knock this guy out, even if he was… blindfolded and both hands tied behind his back! But _no_ , he couldn’t, because of his secret identity. So instead, he’d just have to fight back like a normal, wimpy teenager. 

“No… let me go,” Peter gasped dramatically, even though he could probably break the man’s weak grip with his pinky finger. Peter pretended to struggle weakly for a moment (honestly, this acting was award-worthy) before lashing out and kicking the man in a very sensitive spot.

“Ooh, sorry, man,” Peter quipped. “Lucky shot, huh?”

The man was doubled over, gasping in pain. “You- you little ba-” 

“Woah, language!” Peter said as he punched the man in the side. It was more of a tap, really, as Peter was seriously pulling his punches. But why was his spider-sense still going off?

Fighting his obvious pain, the man pulled out a small pocket knife, with a blade that was maybe two and a half inches long. Peter sighed again. Oh, it would be so easy to knock this man out, but he had to defeat him in a believable way. Which might mean getting lightly stabbed. 

“Oh, no!” Peter cried. “A knife!” He saw the man’s hand coming down as if it was in slow motion. He was going to stab him in the thigh, he was going to stab him in the thigh, he was going to stab him in the thigh…

Yep.

He stabbed Peter in the teenager’s right thigh.

Maybe he was taking this whole acting-secret-identity thing a bit far.

The man grunted triumphantly then pulled the blade out of Peter’s leg, wielding it aggressively and pointing it threateningly toward the teenager. “That won’t kill you,” the man said, “but this will.” 

He was obviously going to try and stab Peter through the heart or something, but Peter just punched him and knocked him out. Yeah, maybe he should’ve done that a bit sooner. 

“Great,” Peter muttered as he inspected his stab wound. It wasn’t that bad; it wasn’t too deep, and obviously didn’t hit anything vital, so he’d be ok. He didn’t have webbing or anything to bandage it, so he ripped off part of the unconscious shooter’s shirt, biting back a hiss of pain as he gently tied the cloth around his leg, just tight enough to stop some of the blood. 

Peter then took the shooter’s sweatshirt off (which felt… weird) and used one end of it to tie the unconscious man’s hands together and tightly tied the other end around a beam. Hopefully that’d keep him there for a while. 

Well, one guy down, and two to go!

.............

Ned took a few deep breaths as he crouched under the table. He hoped that his best friend was okay. God, Peter, why did he have to go and face all three shooters unarmed? What if he got killed? Was there anything Ned could do to help?

Ned took another shaky breath. Even if Peter wasn’t dressed up as Spider-Man… Ned was still his Guy in the ChairTM, so it was his job to help Peter. And the best way to help Peter was…

He glanced to his left and saw Peter’s phone lying on the ground. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. God, they were so stupid. 

Ned hoped Peter wouldn’t be mad at him for doing this. He crawled over, grabbed Peter’s phone, and unlocked it. He glanced at the contacts, then called one of them, keeping his voice low.

“Hi… no, it’s, uh, Ned. Um, maybe you haven’t seen it yet, but there’s kind of a… shooting going on at Midtown?” 

Ned winced as a few swear words assaulted his ears, then listened to the man on the other end. “No, well, he _did_ go out to stop them, but as… as Peter.”

A second bout of swearing followed, then a short reply. Ned nodded, then realized that the man couldn’t see him. “Ok, yes,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Mr. Tony Stark, sir.”

.............

Peter was creeping through the halls, wincing slightly as he put weight on his right leg. He was heading in the direction of the second shooter when the intercom crackled to life and broke the silence.

“Why, hello, Midtown freaks,” an unfamiliar voice spat. “It has come to our attention that some of you have contacted the police. A reasonable response, I must admit. However, my team and I have realized that we… don’t wish to be taken by New York’s… finest.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, congratulations, this school shooting has officially turned into a hostage situation! You can check that one off of your bucket list.” 

The intercom was silent for a minute, then turned back on. The voice returned, now sounding significantly angrier. “And I’ve just received news that some stupid teenager decided to play _hero_. Whoever knocked out Dillon, I hope you’re listening. My friend is currently holding a group of kids in the gym at gunpoint. If you don’t come give yourself up, I will kill them one by one.

“And don’t get your hopes up, because we’ll be letting the police know that if a _single_ person comes into the gym doors we’ll kill all of you little assholes.” 

The PA system turned off, and Peter was starting to freak out. He had very little time to figure out how to save his classmates. What could he do?

Peter was jogging toward the gym when he faltered, remembering something. MJ had gym this period… god, no, she was being held at gunpoint. All he could do was turn himself in or risk her being killed. 

Peter started to run, limping slightly as he approached the gym. As he got closer, he could hear the voices of the two remaining shooters.

“Kate, look. I get what you’re doing but… why did you turn this into a hostage situation? I thought it was just a simple school shooting because Dillon hated these Midtown brats.”

“Yeah, well, that was Dillon’s plan until one of the Midtown brats knocked him out,” the female voice from earlier answered. “Besides, keeping these kids hostage will let us get outta here safely, maybe even bribe the parents on our way out.”

“Eh, whatever. I don’t care about gettin’ outta here. I just want these annoying kids to shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, cue the violins,” Kate answered mockingly. “I’ll let you kill a few more of them before I get outta here. Happy?”

The man grumbled a bit, then agreed. Peter shook his head as he approached the gym. This was the most dysfunctional school-shooting-turned-hostage-situation that he’d ever seen. Well, not that he’d seen a ton of them. But still, these guys had guns, which made them dangerous. Even worse, they had his friends, which made them powerful. He would just have to turn himself in and hope that everything would turn out okay. 

Which was an incredibly naive and stupid thing to hope, but he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

Because they had MJ.

Peter took a deep breath, then entered the gym. He raised his hands in surrender and faced Kate. Luckily, his spider-sense wasn’t going off that much at the moment, so hopefully she wouldn’t shoot him? 

“I’m… the one y-you want?” Peter stammered as he walked through the doors. “Don’t hurt anyone else. I’m the one who took down, uh, Dillon.” 

The one he assumed to be Kate turned towards him, narrowing her eyes. She was freakishly tall with dirty blonde hair and a glassy look in her bloodshot eyes that suggested that she was under the influence. She barked out a laugh, then gestured for him to come closer. 

“I’m surprised a scrawny brat like you could take Dillon out,” she said, her scratchy voice indicating that she smoked frequently. She raised her gun toward Peter and, without warning, fired.

Peter stayed completely still, not even flinching at the loud bang. He knew she was firing to miss, trying to scare him, but his spider-sense told him that he was safe. 

Several screams echoed throughout the gym, and Peter had a flashback to the last hostage situation he had handled here. He almost missed the Terry the Tiger costume.

Kate smirked. “You’re a brave brat, aren’t you. A brave, stupid brat.” 

Rough hands grabbed Peter from behind and dragged him to the front of the gym. Kate loomed over him, leering as he winced at the rancid smell that he assumed to be her breath. 

“Well, you got me,” Peter said dryly. “Now you can let everyone else go.”

Kate threw her head back and laughed, the throaty sound echoing through the room. “You sure think highly of yourself, don’t you!” she said, delighted. “We only wanted you because you deserve to be punished for what you did to Dillon.

_What I did? Seriously?_ “Oh, _punished_ ,” Peter said sarcastically. “Thanks for letting me know. Is this the punishment? Your awful breath?”

Peter heard several students gasp as Kate bashed the butt of the gun against Peter’s head. He blinked as his head throbbed, and felt blood tripping down the side of his face. 

“Nice,” Peter said. “I almost felt that one.” 

He was hoping to be able to keep the two idiots distracted long enough for the other students in the gym to escape without the shooters noticing. He was grateful when he saw Mr. Wilson dragging MJ and several other students out of the gym. 

“You little-” Kate began as her partner in crime growled angrily.

“Sorry? What was that?” Peter asked with fake-innocence. He knew he was risking getting himself hurt, but hey, better him than any of his classmates.

The other man growled again, then punched Peter in the face. “Stupid brat,” he growled. The man’s eyes were red and he was squinting as if he couldn’t see Peter clearly. “You’ll be the first one that I’ll shoot.”

“And the last,” Peter said pointedly. The two shooters whirled around to find a recently vacated gym. Clearly angry beyond words, Kate whirled back around and grabbed Peter by the throat.

“You son of a bitch,” she growled. “Well, at least we still have one hostage. And that’s all we need.”

“Need to… what exactly?” Peter gasped.

“You’ll find out soon,” Kate growled. She turned to her friend. “Rowan, tie him up, and if he even thinks about escaping, shoot him somewhere painful. But… don’t kill him, yet.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Peter asked. “First it was a school shooting where you… didn’t shoot anyone? Now it’s a hostage situation with only one hostage? You must be even stupider than I thought.” 

_Great job, Parker. It might be time to shut up._

Rowan punched him in the gut. “Don’t question Kate,” he growled. “If she wants to get out of here, we get out of here. If she wants money, we get money. You’re just our way of doing it.” 

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” Peter said, putting on a stoic facade. In reality, he knew he could beat these idiots if he had to, but that'd only be as a last resort; protecting his identity was his priority. Not for his sake, but to keep May, Ned, and MJ safe.

“Oh, we’ll kill you,” Kate assured him. “But… we’ll have some fun, first.”

Great.


	4. Spiders and Guns Don’t Mix (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi… no, it’s, uh, Ned.”
> 
> “Ned?” Tony repeated, surprised. “What’s going on? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Peter?”
> 
> The voice on the other end hesitated. “Um, maybe you haven’t seen it yet, but there’s kind of a… shooting going on at Midtown?” 
> 
> “A WHAT?” Tony yelled, then proceeded to swear quite violently. “Ted, please tell me that Peter wasn’t stupid enough to suit up and go and fight them. Lord, doesn’t he even _try_ to keep his identity secret?”
> 
> Ned cleared his throat a little, then squeaked, “No, well, he _did_ go out to stop them, but as… as Peter.”
> 
> What.
> 
> The.
> 
> _Hell_.

Tony Stark had been having a pretty decent day, all things considered.

It was the third day after the Rogue Avengers had moved back into the Tower. While everyone was still a little uneasy, and Tony and Cap were never in the same room alone, things were looking a bit better. Cap and Tony both avoided talking about Bucky, who was getting help from T’Challa and Shuri in Wakanda, and that was that. Maybe not the healthiest way of going about things, but at least they weren’t getting into any arguments and the team was almost functioning as well as it had been before the Accords. 

They were actually all having their first team brunch meeting, and Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey, Sam, Wanda and Vision were discussing the revisions of the Accords. Well, Tony, Steve, and Natasha were, at least. Clint, Rhodey, and Sam were arguing about the best way to cook eggs, and Wanda was attempting to explain the concept of oversalting a food to Vision. 

About an hour into their discussion, Tony felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He glanced down at his phone casually then froze as he saw the caller ID.

Peter Parker.

Tony immediately knew that something was wrong. The kid _never_ called him. Ever. Even that time the kid had been stabbed, and when he almost drowned, Tony heard about it from either FRIDAY or May. So Peter calling meant that something very, very bad was going on. 

“Sorry, guys, gotta take this,” Tony muttered, before rushing out of the room. The others exchanged slightly concerned glances then shrugged in acceptance. 

“Hey, kid, what’s going on?” the billionaire asked, trying and failing to hide the undertone of worry from his voice. However, Tony was surprised when a different voice responded. 

“Hi… no, it’s, uh, Ned.”

“Ned?” Tony repeated, surprised. “What’s going on? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Peter?”

The voice on the other end hesitated. “Um, maybe you haven’t seen it yet, but there’s kind of a… shooting going on at Midtown?” 

“A WHAT?” Tony yelled, then proceeded to swear quite violently. “Ted, please tell me that Peter wasn’t stupid enough to suit up and go and fight them. Lord, doesn’t he even _try_ to keep his identity secret?”

Ned cleared his throat a little, then squeaked, “No, well, he _did_ go out to stop them, but as… as Peter.”

What.

The.

_Hell_.

Of _course_ he did. The stupid kid was willing to get himself killed just to try and save his classmates while protecting his identity. Dammit, Peter!

Did he say that aloud?

Tony sighed. “Look, Ned, just stay there. I’ll… I’m going to come help as soon as I can, okay? Just… try and divert any questions from Peter, because we still don’t… he wouldn’t…” Tony trailed off.

“Uh, ok, yes,” he said quietly. Tony assumed that meant that Ned knew what he was asking. “Thank you, Mr. Tony Stark, sir,” the teenager continued, and Tony could hear him sigh as he ended the call. 

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, the concerned billionaire strode toward his armor, suited up, and leapt from the building, hoping that he’d reach Midtown before anything serious happened. 

........

All things considered, Peter thought that he was handling the situation quite well. Sure, he had a little cut on his leg and had been hit on the head a couple of times, but the rest of the school had been able to evacuate and nobody else was hurt. 

Sure, he was in a bit of a hostage situation, but he was only staying there to play along. If he _really_ had to, he could break out, but really, it was much better make sure his secret identity stayed, well, a secret. 

His captors, Rowan and Kate, were pacing back and forth, arguing loudly. They had zip-tied his hands together and stood a few feet away from him, keeping a wary eye and a gun trained on the teenage hero. 

“I thought this was supposed to be a school _shooting_ , Kate, not a hostage situation,” Rowan growled. 

“Yeah, well, I just realized that I don’t want to go to jail,” Kate hissed in response. “I only came along because Dillon convinced me to so he could get revenge on the kid of an old friend, but now he’s out of commission and I like my freedom! So just shut up and help, unless you _want_ to be arrested.”

“Whatev’r,” Rowan grumbled. “Well, then, how do you plan on getting out of here?”

“Easy,” the woman responded. “Drag the kid out, keep him between us and the police, and demand a getaway car.” She paused for a moment. “And some cash, too. They’ll have to follow all our demands if we have the brat.”

Peter cleared his throat. “I think you may have watched a few too many movies,” he called. “That’s not actually how it works.”

The two adults spun toward him, surprised. Were they surprised that he’d heard them? Were they trying to talk quietly? Peter wasn’t sure, because his head was pounding and everything sounded louder than normal, which was worsened by his enhanced hearing. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Rowan snapped. He took a menacing step toward Peter, his unsteady footing a sign that he was quite drunk. However, Kate put an arm out to stop her accomplice, instead approaching Peter herself.

She crouched down next to him, squinting her bloodshot eyes. Her breath stank of marijuana. “Listen here, you little brat,” she said threateningly. “It works however we want it to work, because we’re the ones with this.” Kate waved her gun, then pointed it at him. “And you’d better shut up, or I’m going to kill you.”

“You are?” Peter asked, his voice full of fake confidence. “Because that’d be pretty stupid, considering you’d lose your hostage.”

Kate growled, then slapped him in the face. “Stop. Talking.” she growled. 

Peter laughed, his face stinging slightly. “Or what?” he replied, “you’ll make me eat whatever you had for lunch? Honestly, I think I’d rather be dead than have breath as bad as yours.” 

Great, Parker, can’t you just keep your mouth shut for once? You can only say things like that when you’re in the suit!

Kate growled again, the inhuman noise making Peter shudder. She pointed the gun toward his heart. “I can’t kill you yet,” she mused, “but I can cause you a lot of pain…”

She slowly lowered her arm, so her gun was pointed toward Peter’s left leg. “How’d you feel about a bloody left leg, too?” she asked, smirking. 

Peter coughed slightly. “I’d- I’d rather not have one,” he stammered. Maybe he was taking this a bit far? Was getting shot really worth masking (ha, ha) his identity? Peter thought about Aunt May, and Ned, and MJ, and Mr. Delmar, and everyone else he knew that could be harmed or threatened if his identity came out. 

Yeah, it was worth it.

Peter closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain, when suddenly the door to the gym burst open. A gleaming red and gold figure flew into the room, pausing when he saw the gun pointed at Peter.

Kate jumped, startled, and Rowan went pale. 

“Let the kid go,” Iron Man demanded. When neither Kate nor Rowan moved, he spoke again.  
“Now.” 

Rowan turned toward Kate accusingly. “You didn’t say anything about _Iron Man_ being involved!” he snapped. 

“Well, that’s because I didn’t know he was going to be!” Kate replied testily. She grabbed Peter and roughly dragged him in front of her, a shield between her and Tony. “Who knew that Iron Man would come all the way here to save some random brat?”

“First of all, he’s not any random brat,” Tony said. “He’s my personal intern, and he’s probably fifty times as smart as the two of you assholes put together. And second of all,” he lifted his arm threateningly, his palm glowing as it heated up, “Let the kid go. Don’t make me have to repeat myself.”

All of Tony’s usual sarcasm had been completely removed from his voice. Instead, he radiated a calm fury. No jokes, no casual remarks. 

Tony was _mad_. 

Peter could sense Rowan trembling in fear, but Kate remained calm. “Clearly,” she huffed, “you care about this little brat. So let me cut you a deal.” She lifted the gun and placed it against Peter’s temple. “Escort us out, get us an untraceable car and four million, and I won’t shoot your precious intern.”

“Excuse me?” Tony growled.

“You heard me,” Kate mocked. Peter winced as the end of the handgun cut into his temple. “You’ve got fifteen minutes or I shoot the brat.”

“Fine,” Tony snapped. He was just stalling, waiting for the perfect moment to take her out. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, but Peter was in danger, so he had to navigate these waters carefully. Maybe this would teach him from running in with some half-assed plan in the future.

Tony saw Peter’s eyes widen and the teenager shook his head. _He doesn’t want me to pay money for him,_ Tony realised. Of course he doesn’t. Well, he doesn’t have much of a choice- and by now, Peter should know that four million was small money for him.

Ok, well, now Tony had to think. It would be easy to prepare a car and the money, but Kate wouldn’t just let Peter go. Plus, the authorities would give him a ton of crap for even considering the demands of a high school-shooter-turned-kidnapper. 

“That’s really not necessary,” Peter blurted out, wincing again as his head swam and pounded from his maybe-probably-concussion. He ignored Tony’s _don’t-you-dare-say-another-word_ glare and soldiered on. “He’s not gonna pay up, Kate.”

“Sure he will,” the woman snarled. “You’re his personal intern.”

Peter forced a small chuckle. “Personal intern? Kate, I just fetch the coffee and doughnuts. That’s about the extent of our relationship.”

It hurt him to say that, because he knew, and desperately hoped, that their relationship was much, much stronger. Peter heard Tony’s sharp intake of breath, and prayed that his mentor knew that wasn’t true. But Peter didn’t want Mr. Stark spending any money on him like this.

_Are you forgetting the multi-million dollar suit he designed you?_

Shut up, brain! That was for Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. 

Meanwhile, across the gym, Tony was having an internal debate of his own. _I can’t just give her the money like that,_ he thought. Then his brain would cycle back to the words _that’s about the extent of our relationship_ , and some part of him would turn sad and angry. _But the kid didn’t mean that,_ Tony reminded himself. _He’s just saying that so I don’t pay four million for him. Right? Focus, Stark. Pay the money? What’s the protocol for this? Why does Parker have to be so damn stubborn about his identity? He’d really rather get shot than let the world know who he is?_

“What are you doing?” Kate spat, furious. “Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and get my car and my money!”

“Okay, okay, I will,” Tony said quickly, trying to calm down the angry woman.

“You should have done so already! Why have you just been standing there? Trying to think of some clever plan to save the kid without paying me?”

“No, I-” Tony began, but was cut off.

“Well, here’s a little incentive for you,” Kate snarled, then jammed the gun into Peter’s shoulder.

“NO!” Tony yelled as, almost in slow motion, he saw her finger tighten and begin to pull the trigger. The billionaire saw Peter steel himself, closing his eyes in preparation for the pain. _God dammit Peter! Why don’t you just overpower her!_

In the nick of time, a figure appeared through the wall and tackled Kate. Tony heard a gunshot and saw Kate hit the ground, being held in place by Vision. A glinting silver suit flew through the door and tackled Rowan. 

Tony sprinted to Peter and saw the kid grimacing and holding his side. “Peter! What the hell, kid!”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” the teenager assured him, lifting his hand. “Just a little scrape.” 

Peter had gotten extremely lucky- the bullet had just grazed his side. Tony pushed down the worry that had risen to his throat. “A little scrape, my ass,” the billionaire said. “Come on, let’s go get that taken care of. And kid- what the HELL were you thinking???”

“I, uh,” Peter stammered, his eyes resting on Vision and War Machine, who were standing behind Tony holding Kate and Rowan. “Well… I had to help my classmates?”

“But why didn’t you just-” Tony stopped, realizing that he couldn’t say anything with the others around. He sighed. “Kid, don’t _ever_ do anything like that ever again. You’re lucky your friend Ted called me, or you would be-”

“Ned,” Peter reminded him, cutting him off.

“Ah, nope, zip it, the adult is talking here. That was insanely stupid.” Uncomfortable with how worried he felt and how much he cared, Tony continued. “I can’t keep on missing meetings to save your ass.”

It came out much harsher than he intended due to his worry, and he regretted the words immediately.

Peter sighed. “Okay, Mr. Stark,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “No, kid, what I mean is…” he silently cursed. He didn’t want to become Howard. “I was worried, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated.

“No more of that,” Tony said sternly. He cleared his throat, trying to sound gruff and practical and unconcerned and professional again. “Let’s get you looked at and then you can go home.” 

“Okay,” Peter said quietly. Was that disappointment Tony detected?

“Actually, today was supposed to be a lab day, wasn’t it?” Tony said, pretending that he hadn’t been looking forward to it himself. “Why don’t you call May, and if she’s okay with it you can come back to the Tower. We can work on some stuff, get takeout, watch a movie. That is, if you want to,” Tony finished uncomfortably. Was that stupid? The kid had just been through a traumatic experience. He’d probably want to go to the comfort of his home and the arms of his beautiful aunt. Great, now he’d put the kid in an awkward situation.

To his surprise, however, Peter’s eyes lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree. “I’d love to!” he exclaimed. “Thanks, Mr. Stark!” 

Tony watched fondly as the kid hobbled out to get patched up and call his aunt. He had forgotten about Rhodey and Vision, and whirled around when a voice startled him.

“You love the kid, don’t you?” Rhodey teased. Vision was dragging Rowan and Kate toward the police officers, so it was just the two of them. “Come on, be honest with me. I see the way you look at him.”

“Of course not,” Tony replied. “He’s just… he’s just a good kid. And yes, I do _like_ him. But love? Come on, Rhodes, you should know me better than that.”

“I know you well enough to see that this kid has somehow made his way into your heart,” Rhodey replied playfully. 

Oh, if only he knew how damn true that was.


	5. Of Sand and Spiders (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stretched in his chair as he waited for the time to finish. His body ached from spending hours patrolling in the heat. For some reason, all of the muggers and robbers decided to come out this month and, since it was lighter for longer, Peter felt as if it was his responsibility to stay out for as long as he could to help anyone he could. Which was a great sentiment and all, and of course Peter was glad he could help the citizens of Queens, but the truth was…
> 
> Peter needed a break.
> 
> Badly. 
> 
> And he was about to get one... kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic just hit 200 kudos!! Thank you to all of my fabulous readers!!!!!!!!! Shoutout to Snowbell_in_Summer08 who always leaves the sweetest, most hilarious comments that I look forward to so much :)

A bead of sweat slowly trickled down the side of Peter’s face as he narrowed his eyes, working intently on his Spanish final. Staying focused was very, very hard; with his enhanced senses, he could smell the combination of Flash’s B.O and the overwhelming amount of AXE Body Spray that he used. He could hear his Spanish teacher humming along to some Enrique Iglesias song as she tapped her finger to the beat. He was blinded by the glaring light in the room, and he could feel the oppressive heat of the sun as he jealously listened to the sound of functioning air-conditioning units in the other classrooms.

It was _so hot_.

“Tienes… cinco minutos más,” his Spanish teacher called as she checked her watch. Peter shook his head violently to regain focus, then sighed in relief as he managed to scribble down answers to the last few questions and complete his test. The teenager set his pencil down then wiped the sweat off of his face.

God, he hated New York in June.

It wasn’t that it was _too_ hot, per se, but what made it terrible was the fact that they still had school and the heat was multiplied by the hundreds of bodies that filled the halls and classrooms. And, of course, some of the rooms didn’t have functioning AC, as the units had broken down and the school hadn’t bothered or was able to fix them. Some science school this was, Peter thought bitterly.

He stretched in his chair as he waited for the time to finish. His body ached from spending hours patrolling in the heat. For some reason, all of the muggers and robbers decided to come out this month and, since it was lighter for longer, Peter felt as if it was his responsibility to stay out for as long as he could to help anyone he could. Which was a great sentiment and all, and of course Peter was glad he could help the citizens of Queens, but the truth was…

Peter needed a break.

Badly.

“El tiempo se acabó. Entregue sus exámenes ahora, por favor!”

Peter stood up slowly, wiping the sweat off his face and walking to the front of his classroom. Thank God _that_ was over. He snagged his backpack and walked out the door with Ned, jumping when a voice suddenly materialized next to him.

“Hey losers,” MJ said casually as Ned let out a little squeak of surprise.

“Hey, MJ,” Peter said, trying and failing miserably to hide the tired tone of his voice.

His friend narrowed her eyes a bit, taking in Peter’s appearance. “You look like shit,” she told him bluntly.

Peter frowned. “Thanks a lot,” he muttered.

“Seriously though, Parker,” MJ continued, “have you been getting any sleep? Taking any time off for yourself? It’s not good to work yourself to death, you know. In most cases.”

Peter shrugged, then smirked a little. “Is that concern I hear, MJ?” he teased.

MJ raised an eyebrow. “You wish,” she shot back. “I just don’t want to see your stupid ass pass out from exhaustion.”

“I’m not going to-” Peter began, then looked at Ned. His best friend had his ‘you-know-MJ-is-right” look on his face. “Oh, come on, not you, too!” Peter exclaimed.

“We know you’re busy Peter, we just think it’d be good for you to take a break!” Ned said earnestly.

“Ned, I can’t just take a break,” Peter argued. “I have my, uh, internship.”

“You can take _one day_ off your internship, Peter,” Ned said. “Come on, dude.”

Peter sighed. “I guess… you might be right,” the exhausted teenager conceded.

Ned grinned. “Perfect! You can join the decathlon team at the beach tomorrow!”

“Excuse me… what?” Peter asked, puzzled.

Ned rolled his eyes. “Peter, we’ve been talking about this for ages. We’re all going to the beach tomorrow to unwind. Nothing official, just to hang out and relax! It was Betty’s idea.”

“Yeah, it certainly wasn’t mine,” MJ muttered. “As if I’d want to spend my day with Flash’s testosterone and hormones gaping over Betty’s skimpy new bikini.”

“I mean… I guess I’ll come?” Peter agreed hesitantly. The teenage hero figured he definitely needed a little break. Besides, it’d be during the day, so it’s not as if he’d be patrolling or Spider-manning anyways. “I’ll be there,” Peter said, this time much more decisively. Ned grinned and Peter swore he even saw the corner of MJ’s mouth quirk up a little.

………………….

The next day, Peter threw on a pair of swim trunks, slathered on some sunscreen (“Skin cancer is the real crime you need to fight, Peter,” May had insisted) and put on an old t-shirt. He met up with Ned and MJ and they took the subway to the beach.

“What’s in the backpack?” MJ asked as they met up.

“Um, just some extra sunscreen and a water bottle,” Peter lied. Well, there was extra sunscreen and a water bottle, but the real reason he brought his backpack was to hide the suit in the bottom. It never hurt to be prepared.

They got to the beach and found some of their teammates. Flash, Cindy, and Betty (yeah, that was a skimpy bikini) were already there. Flash was acting all cool because of the faintest of faint outline of a six-pack on his chest, flexing his ab muscles in an attempt to show off. Peter scoffed. If Flash saw _his_ abs, then he’d be ashamed of his own puny ones.

Wait.

Oh, no.

Peter couldn’t just take off his shirt and show his spider-abs! People were going to be suspicious! He was just puny nerd Parker, he wasn’t supposed to be ripped!

“Oh, shit,” Peter hissed under his breath. Ned heard him and turned toward his friend.

“What?” Ned asked.

“Ned, I… I can’t take off my shirt!” Peter whispered.

Ned paused, taken aback. “Why not?” he asked. “Do you need help? Are you hurt? Are you covered in scars? Do you have a gaping wound in your back from battling ten bank robbers at once?”

“Wha- no, Ned, I don’t,” Peter said. “It’s just…” he trailed off meaningfully and gestured toward his abs.

“Ohhhhh,” Ned said, his face lighting up with understanding. “Um. Yes. Do you have a swim shirt?”

“I’m not seven, why on earth would I have a swim shirt?” Peter asked.

Ned thought for a moment. “You’re right. Well, you could just keep on your t-shirt?”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all,” Peter said sarcastically. The teenage hero then sighed. “But it might be my only option.”

As Ned opened his mouth to respond, MJ interrupted them. “What are you losers waiting for?” she asked casually. As Peter turned toward MJ, he had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground.

MJ looked _amazing_ in her swimsuit.

She was wearing a bikini, but it wasn’t anything scandalous; it had a lot of coverage. It’s just… Peter had always admired (or maybe even something more) MJ for her brains, witty comebacks, and feigned nonchalance, but he’d never really considered how GORGEOUS she was.

MJ was still looking at them, obviously waiting for an answer, so Peter swallowed quickly. “Um, yeah, we’re coming over,” he said, and dragged a confused Ned along with him.

“You’re keeping your t-shirt on?” MJ asked, confused.

Peter stopped, then exchanged a glance with Ned. “Uh, no, I mean, yeah, because, um, skin cancer?”

“You sunscreened,” MJ pointed out. “And you brought extra sunscreen. So I think you’re safe,” she concluded wryly.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Flash yelling at them from the water. “Jones! Parker! Leeds! Hurry up and get your asses over here! And take off that stupid shirt, Parker!”

MJ scoffed. “Flash just wants to try and flex about his superior abs. Don’t worry, I doubt he has much on you,” she said. “You’re both scrawny nerds.”

“Um…” Peter said, truly unable to think of a response to that. “Yeah. Um. Ned and I will meet you at the water in a second.”

She gave him a strange look. “Whatever, loser,” MJ called as she walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Peter whirled to face Ned. “Great,” he muttered. “Now I have to take off my shirt. There goes my secret identity.” He started pulling off his shirt.

“Well, it’d be pretty unrealistic for someone to link you actually having abs to you being Spider-Man,” Ned said reasonably.

Peter tossed his shirt into his bag. “You’re right,” he said glumly. “But… I dunno. I just don’t like people knowing… yeah.”

Ned opened his mouth, then froze. He looked at his best friend. “I have an idea,” he declared. “And it’s brilliant.”

…………………

Approximately seventy-three seconds later, Ned’s ‘brilliant plan’ was put into action.

Step one: Peter followed closely behind Ned as they walked to the water. He was barely visible. Nobody said anything. Success.

Step two: When they got to the ocean, Peter pretended to trip and wiped out, facedown, in the wet sand. When he pried himself up, his chest was caked in a thick layer of wet sand and seaweed. Success.

Step three: While in the water, Peter will only stay in deep water where it goes up past his chest. Success (so far).

So far, Ned’s plan was working. And, strangely enough, Peter was really, really, enjoying himself. Everything was just absolutely perfect.

Well, until it wasn’t.

It started with the faint screaming. Peter froze, then turned his head sharply toward the beach to their far right. Right as he leaned forward to get a better look, Flash dunked him. Spluttering a little, Peter quickly wiped the water from his eyes and squinted at the commotion to his right. It looked like the sand was… moving?

As Peter focused, he could see the sand rising and moving around, seemingly of its own accord. And… it was grabbing people and smashing umbrellas.

“Guys!” Peter yelled, “we gotta get out of here!”

All his friends paused and turned toward him. “Why?” Abraham asked.

“Because- because, well, look!” Peter pointed toward the complete and utter chaos going on to their right. He had to hurry, get his friends out of here, so he could throw on his suit and help those people.  
“How can you even see all the way over there?” MJ asked suspiciously.

“Um… I eat a lot of carrots?” Peter said weakly. “I think there’s something going on over there.” He shot a glare at Ned.

Ned squinted too. “Um, yeah, are those people screaming?”

Now, all of Peter’s teammates whirled to face the scene. Right as they looked, a huge figure rose from the sand and took out a nearby foot stand.

“Holy shit!” Flash screamed. “There’s a sandman attacking everyone on the beach!”

“Come on, come on, we gotta go!” Peter said frantically, and began to herd his teammates out of the water. The screams were now growing closer and closer, as was the mass of moving sand.

As soon as he stepped out of the water, all of his teammates froze, and Flash paled considerably. “What?” Peter asked, confused. “Why are you guys stopping? We have to get out of here!”

“Peter… wow,” Betty said hesitantly as Abraham let out a low whistle. Her gaze was trained on his chest.

Peter glanced down at his exposed six pack. “Oh.” He glanced up at MJ. She looked utterly shocked and was clearly trying to hide it.

Flash let out a weird sound like a dying fish. “Parker, what the fu-”

At that moment, the sand they were standing on exploded.

Peter and MJ shot up into the air while the rest of their teammates were thrown to the side and landed in a pile of sand. Peter twisted his body midair and grabbed MJ, taking the brunt of the impact as they landed on the sand.

They hit the ground hard, and Peter groaned as MJ scrambled off of him. “Are you ok?” she asked frantically.

Peter spat out some sand and climbed to his knees. “Yeah, you?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m… I’m good,” she said. “But Peter, you hit the ground really hard, and-” she grabbed his arm, “you’re bleeding!”

Peter glanced down at the long scrape on his arm. It wasn’t deep, probably just caused by a flying seashell or rock. “I’m fine, it’s shallow,” he assured her. “Now we have to get out of here!”

They both started running toward their teammates. Everyone was on their feet and waving frantically to Peter and MJ.

“Oh my god, are you guys ok?” Betty yelled.

“We’re fine, let’s go, let’s go!” Peter yelled back, pushing his friends toward the grass where, hopefully, they’d be safe from this sandman. After they’d all been deposited on the grass, he pulled Ned close and hissed into his ear. “Get everyone out of here, I have the suit.”

Ned glanced at his exhausted friend who was covered head to toe in sand. “Okay, I will. Be careful!”

As Peter slipped away, Ned pushed his friends toward a shop that was far away from the sand. They were walking away when MJ stopped. “Where’s Peter?” she demanded.

Ned froze. “Uh… he’s calling Mr. Stark!” he blurted. Much better than his initial thought of ‘he had to pee’. Good thinking, Ned.

Flash scoffed. “As if he actually has TONY STARK’s phone number. He probably wimped out and is running as far away as he can.”

…………………

Peter sprinted and crouched down behind the corner of a building. His backpack had been blasted _so close_ to where he was standing, just about fifteen feet away. If he sprinted out to grab it, he would be seen and it would be too suspicious. He couldn’t let anyone see his face.

He rubbed his hand across his face, dropping bits of sand around him. What should he do, what should he do…

Peter’s gaze landed on an abandoned paper bag sitting on the ground near him. He groaned. Well, it was better than nothing. He tore a small hole for vision in the paper bag, placed it on his head, and sprinted toward his backpack. Hopefully, if anyone got a video of this, his swim trunks and backpack would be covered in too thick a layer of sand to be recognizable.

He snagged his bag and dashed back into the alleyway, glancing around to make sure he was along before ripping off the paper bag. He went to pull off his trunks before realizing that… he wasn’t wearing anything under them.

“Well, this is awkward,” Peter muttered. Mr. Stark was already going to be pissed because of the sand he was getting into the suit; there was no way he was going to wear it buck naked as well. He grimaced as he forced the suit over his trunks, trying his best to tuck them in so they weren’t noticeable. Eh, it looked ok. The chafing, however, was NOT going to be fun.

Peter webbed his backpack up on the building and leapt out to face the weird sand creature. How exactly does one fight sand?

Time to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I am so SO sorry that it took me this long to update... school and everything has been very hectic.
> 
> Leave a kudos if you enjoy (if anyone actually reads this lmao)! And comments make my day :)
> 
> And this is another 2-parter. Probably. Maybe 3.
> 
> Also, I always look at the read count and get slightly depressed by how many people read this and how few kudos there are, but then I forget to kudos other people. So maybe it's karma :/ But I'm trying really really hard to not forget to kudos lmao I promise PLEASE DON'T HATE ME


	6. Of Sand and Spiders (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sand stopped shifting and the weird mass of sand froze. Peter watched, nervous, as the mass rose up and solidified into a HUGE man. Twelve feet tall, with a broad chin, muscular arms, and narrow eyes, the figure towered over Peter. 
> 
> “Um. Hi?” Peter squeaked. “Please stop wrecking the beach?”
> 
> The large man growled and raised a fist, his hand morphing into a large hammer. Peter leapt out of the way as it slammed down onto the spot where he’d been standing. 
> 
> “Hey, not cool!” Peter yelped. “What did I ever do to you! Come on, Mr. Sandman!”
> 
> The large figure chuckled, his voice deep. “Sandman,” he said. “I like that.”

Peter leapt out from behind the building and, out of habit, shot a strand of webbing that he would have used to get him above his foe. Unfortunately, this didn’t work as there were no tall structures on the beach. 

“Great,” Peter sighed. “I’m fighting a sand creature in my swimsuit, my suit is full of sand, and I can’t even fight properly. This is what I get for taking a day off.” He sprinted forward toward the massive figure of sand. “Stupid karma.”

The teenager glanced over his shoulder briefly to make sure that his friends were out of danger. He could just barely make them out, all huddled together inside of some tourist shop. Well, at least one thing was going right. 

He skidded to a stop in front of the strange sandman. “Hey!” Peter yelled. “Hello? Mr. Sandman?” Could this creature hear him? Was the sand even sentient? Or was it being controlled by an outside source?

The sand stopped shifting and the weird mass of sand froze. Peter watched, nervous, as the mass rose up and solidified into a HUGE man. Twelve feet tall, with a broad chin, muscular arms, and narrow eyes, the figure towered over Peter. 

“Um. Hi?” Peter squeaked. “Please stop wrecking the beach?”

The large man growled and raised a fist, his hand morphing into a large hammer. Peter leapt out of the way as it slammed down onto the spot where he’d been standing. 

“Hey, not cool!” Peter yelped. “What did I ever do to you! Come on, Mr. Sandman!”

The large figure chuckled, his voice deep. “Sandman,” he said. “I like that.” 

_So he can talk,_ Peter thought. _Well, that’s a start._

“Yeah, well, I’m quite well-known because of my creativity,” Peter said as he dodged punch after punch. He paused for a moment after backflipping over another hammer. “Actually, now that I think about it, I give myself _way_ too much credit. Sandman? Well of course you’re called Sandman, you’re literally a man made out of sand. Spider-Man? That’s not original either. I was bit by a radioactive spider, so, like, of COURSE I’d be called Spider-Man.”

Sandman grunted. “Sure don’t sound like a man,” he grunted, then cursed. “Damn it, stay still!”

“Why would I do that?” Peter asked, perplexed. “Just to let you hit me? That’s stupid.” 

“You’re right. It is,” Sandman agreed. “But would it kill you to stop moving around so much? You’re making me dizzy, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Peter blurted. This was by far the strangest fight he’d ever been in. “And yes, it would LITERALLY kill me. Assuming that’s what you’re trying to do. Which, if you aren’t, by all means, we can stop and just talk it out.”

Sandman chuckled wryly. “Not a chance,” he said, although Peter thought he detected a hint of sadness in his voice. Sandman grunted as he reached out to grab Peter with spike-tipped hands and cursed again as Peter leapt and twisted out of his reach a second before he could grab him. “You can’t dodge me forever, Spider-kid,” Sandman spat. 

“It’s Spider-Man!” Peter yelled. “Respect the name, man!” The teenager twisted and webbed Sandman’s arm, using it to swing above the large man and Peter knew that Sandman was right, though. He was going to get tired sooner or later, and he would start taking hits when that happened. But how was he supposed to fight a person made out of sand?

Sandman chuckled again. “I like you, kid.”

“Really?” Peter said, his breaths getting shorter as he jumped around for longer. “Because-” he dove under a wall of sand, narrowly missing being crushed, “it really seems like-” he leapt over spikes that shot up from the sand under him, “you’re trying-” Peter twisted midar to avoid getting bludgeoned, “to kill me!” 

“I don’t have a choice,” the massive figure said, sounding genuinely regretful. 

“That’s what they all say, Mr. Sandman,” Peter exclaimed, “but you do! For example, last night I really wanted pizza but all we had was pasta, and- ahh!”

Peter yelped as Sandman finally made contact with the teenager, sending him flying across the sand and landing hard. He groaned, dazed, as the sand around him sucked him in. Peter shielded his head as he was pummeled by a variety of pebbles and seashells that were under the sand with him. 

**“Peter, would you like me to contact Tony Stark?”** Karen asked.

“No, I’m-” Peter gasped, then choked on the granules of sand that had entered his mask, “I’m good, Karen. I can handle this.”

 **“It doesn’t seem like you can handle this, Peter,”** Karen said, her AI voice somehow carrying a concerned tone.

“Wow, thanks for the-” he coughed, stupid sand in his lungs, “-really great inspirational speech, Karen,” Peter forced out, wheezing as the sand around him tightened, making it harder to breathe. He coughed again, then desperately fought his way to the surface. His head barely broke the surface and he shot a perfectly-aimed strand of webbing at a tree on the edge of the beach. Peter clung to the webbing as the sand tried to pull him under again, barely managing to pull himself out of the churning sand.

He had just freed his legs when Sandman tried to cut it with a compact blade of sand. The blade wasn’t quite sharp enough, though, and the blade just ended up getting stuck in the web and jerking Peter to the side. Peter yelped in surprise as he was plunged into Sandman’s face.

As soon as he entered Sandman’s head, the entire figure dissolved and Peter landed heavily on the ground. Peter raised the bottom of his mask and vomited/coughed up chunks of sand that he had swallowed/inhaled. 

The teenager pulled his mask back down and rose to his feet. “Mr. Sandman?” he called, his voice raspy. “Did I just eat you? Oh my God, were you in my body?” He spat again furiously. Who knows what part of Mr. Sandman’s body _that_ grain of sand was. 

Peter scanned the beach but could see no sign of Sandman. Did he defeat him? Was it that easy?

No, it wasn’t. A moment later, a smaller figure rose out of the sand. It was Sandman, looking more annoyed this time. 

“Damn it, you pest,” he growled. From the way Sandman was panting and grunting, Peter assumed that it was difficult for him to control all of the sand particles. Well, he could use that to his advantage. Probably.

“Look, Mr. Sandman, I’m sure this-” he coughed, “is all just a big misunderstanding,” Peter rasped. “Seriously, man, what’s your deal? You weren’t robbing anyone, you’re not targeting anyone, why are you ruining everyone’s beach day?”

Sandman paused, then bowed his head. “I… I’m sorry, Spidey.”

“What?” Peter said, bewildered. He almost didn’t realize his spider-sense was tingling until it screamed at him to move. Peter jumped and dodged a massive sand-fist, only to see a large tire hurtling toward him. With no structures to use to pull himself out of the way, Peter could only brace himself as the rubber tire struck him in the chest. 

“Oh, that’s gonna bruise,” Peter moaned. He pushed himself up off the sand and, seeing the tire, formed an idea in his head. He crawled up onto the rubber and hoped desperately that this would work. “Karen, let’s try out those new, ultra-high voltage taser webs.”

 **“The ones strong enough to take out the Hulk? You do realize that you programmed those to reach 1800 degrees Celsius, right? Those are still very dangerous prototypes, Peter,”** Karen warned.

“Time to test them out, then,” Peter said. “Max energy, Karen.” He managed to push himself into a sitting position when he saw massive fists approaching him from both sides. Right as it was about to reach him, Peter leapt up and fired his new, prototype webs. 

Well, it worked. Sort of. There was a bright flash and a strange hissing sound, and the entire left fist fused into a large piece of glass. Peter was able to dodge the other fist, but the prototype web-shooter sent a large, painful shock up his arm.

Peter hissed in pain. “We might have to bring these back to the drawing board, Karen,” he said. His entire left arm went from numb to a fiery, burning pain.

 **“It appears that you’ve melted the web-shooters on your left arm, Peter,”** Karen said. **“You’ve also sustained moderately severe electrical burns on that arm.”**

“Melted the- holy shit,” Peter said. “Ok, well, it’s a good-news-bad-news situation.” Sandman was looking extremely pissed and even more strained. He hadn’t reformed his left fist, which was good. The bad part was that Peter couldn’t move his left arm and he’d busted a web-shooter.

Mr. Stark was going to kill him.

Well, if Peter was able to tase Sandman at exactly the right spot, like in the middle of his head, he’d probably freeze forever? Maybe? Peter’s hypothesis was that there was a control molecule/grain of sand in Sandman’s forehead, which was why he fell apart… right?

He was just going to have to take that risk. It’s not like he had other options, really. Peter knew he only had one shot, though. Mess this up, and he was kinda screwed. 

Sandman roared in anger and the chunk of glass dropped to the ground. Peter felt his spider-sense screaming at him to move and dove out of the way right as a spiked ball made of some very tightly packed sand swung where he had been. Peter yet out a small yelp as he landed on his left arm. Electrical burns = not fun. 

The teenager dodged another swing and turned to face Sandman. “Come _on_ , dude,” Peter pleaded. “Seriously. What’s your problem? What did I ever do to you? If it’s about me taking the last two hot dogs yesterday at that truck on the corner near Midtown, I’m really sorry, but I was absolutely STARVING.”

“It’s not- what?” Sandman said, bewildered. 

“Wasn’t the hot dogs, then, was it?” Peter paused for a moment. “Well, I really can’t think of anything else I would’ve done. Maybe I webbed your favorite villain? Landed on your car? Left a sticky residue on your windows?” The teenager paused again, thinking hard as he flipped around Sandman’s punches. “I don’t leave a residue, right? Because that would just be disgusting.”

“Look, kid,” Sandman said, gritting his teeth, “could you just stop yammering? Anyone ever tell you that you’re very irritating?”

“Once or twice, maybe,” Peter said, grunting as Sandman landed a blow that sent him skidding across the beach. He coughed as he got up slowly, wincing at the ache in his ribs. Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He had to hurry.

But… would his plan kill Sandman?

The sand below him suddenly pushed him up, and Peter was thrown into the air. Sandman materialized right below him, and a giant fist caught the arachnid-themed hero. Peter struggled and was able to free himself, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze as he leaped over Sandman. 

Peter had a perfect shot. 

All he had to do was fire his web. 

But… he couldn’t. 

What if he killed Sandman? He’d never killed a criminal before. He’d never killed _anyone_ before. Even the man who shot Uncle Ben… Peter had restrained himself. 

Peter didn’t kill. 

It was just wrong. It was completely against his morals. He couldn’t bear to see anyone die, whether they’re a hero, villain, or bystander. 

In that split second, Peter held back. His arm was outstretched, instinctually aiming, but he couldn’t bring himself to push his web-shooter. Distracted, Peter didn’t notice the fist coming toward him until it hit him.

Peter flew across the beach and collided with a store on the beachfront. His head hit the brick wall hard, and everything went blurry for a moment. He was so, so tired. Maybe he could just rest for a moment… 

“Ohmygod! Is he dead?”

Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head. He squinted and then groaned as he recognized the figure next to him. 

“Spidey? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, Fl- uh, sir, I’m fine.”

Flash took a long look at Peter, taking in the scrapes along his arms, the bubbling mess of what used to be his left web-shooter, and the way that Peter gingerly held his left arm. “Are you sure?” Flash said, sounding genuinely concerned. 

Peter sighed; this wasn’t what he needed right now. “Yes, I’m fine. But you need to get yourself to safet- GET DOWN!”

Flash’s eyes widened as Peter jumped up and pushed him right out of the way right of several spikes of packed sand shot by them. They were quite sharp; they embedded themselves in the sign that was next to Peter and one of them just nicked his back, leaving a long scrape between his shoulders. 

“Move, move, move!” Peter yelled, trying to shove Flash farther away from the beachfront. His bully just stood there, gaping, and didn’t respond to Peter’s attempts to get him to leave. Peter opened his mouth to yell at him once more but was beaten to it.

“Flash!” Betty yelled, poking her head out from behind the building. “What the hell are you doing?”

Flash snapped out of his stupor and turned toward Peter. “What, um, I mean, th-thank you Mr. Spidey sir!” he said. “You saved my life! That was so cool!”

“Flash, get your ass over here!”

Peter turned to see MJ yelling at her teammate. She was safe, thank God. Flash nodded jerkily and stumbled back to his teammates. Peter could hear him yell, “please tell me someone got a recording of that!”

Shaking his head, Peter dove back toward the beach, dodging punches. He still had no idea how he was going to stop Sandman and, worryingly enough, the villain started to target the bystanders on the beach, as if he knew that was Peter’s weakness.

Peter felt himself starting to slow as he began to take more hits protecting the bystanders. He took a hard hit saving a teenage girl who was filming the whole fight, feelings his ribs shift unpleasantly as he landed. A minute later he dislocated his left arm (not that he could use it, anyways) taking a hit for an elderly woman that couldn’t leave fast enough. 

The hero heard a scream of terror and turned to see large spikes being shot at a terrified mother who was protecting her daughter. Peter launched himself toward them and managed to push the mother and her child out of the way. He cried out as three of the spikes entered his body, impaling him. Two in his right thigh and a third in his abdomen. 

Peter crumpled to the ground, wheezing as he tried to stand up. The massive body of Sandman loomed over him, his gaze filled with regret. The young girl screamed as Sandman approached, and her mother cried silently, eyes full of terror. 

“I have a daughter, you know,” the villain said softly, his voice full of melancholy. “Her name is Keemia. She loves going to the beach.”

With that, Sandman turned away from the pair and gently picked up Peter, setting him down farther down the beach. Peter groaned as his side throbbed, but Sandman was surprisingly considerate of his injuries. 

“I really don’t want to kill you, kid,” Sandman said regretfully. “I have… had no choice. They have my Keemia, and they said they’re gonna kill her if I don’t kill you and every civilian I see.”

“Wh- who is they?” Peter gasped, his back arching in pain as he struggled to sit up. 

Sandman hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “All I got was a video of Keemia and them warning me that they’d kill her if I told anybody.” Sandman bowed his head, then said a moment later, his voice hard, “so I had to be strong. I’m sorry, kid, but I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden voice cut through.

“Kid? What the HELL is going on?”

Ah, yes. Peter forgot about Tony and his many protocols. 

“Ah, n-nothing,” Peter wheezed. 

“What?” Sandman said, as Tony simultaneously said “it doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Peter decided to ignore Tony and focus on the more pressing matter at hand. “Look, Mr. Sandman,” Peter said slowly, “we can help you find your daughter. We can help you find that people that are blackmailing you. What’s her last name?”

“Alvarado Marko,” Sandman whispered.

“Keemia Alvarado Marko,” Peter repeated, hoping that Tony would hear. “And sh-” he coughed, “she’s being held hostage. And I know that’s why you’re attacking all these people, but listen, _we can find her_.” 

But Sandman was already shaking his head. “No,” he whispered, then louder. “No.” 

Great.

“I’m sorry, kid, but I have to do this,” Sandman said, his voice hard. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Hang in there, Peter, I’m coming!” Tony’s panicked voice echoed through the comms. “Shit, FRIDAY, I don’t care if I’m fifteen minutes out! Get me there NOW!”

“You always have a choice,” Peter said weakly. He couldn’t get up, he couldn’t fight Sandman, he could barely breathe- but there was no way he was going to let Sandman kill all those civilians. His friends, all the families with young children that were visiting the beach… the frightened mother and her daughter. 

Peter looked down and realized that he was sitting on… the tire. No way. The chance of that happening was so, so low. The teenager felt the waves lapping his feet and realized that they were practically sitting in the water. 

Well, this might still hurt a bit. 

Peter weakly raised his right arm and aimed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then shot the web.

Peter yelped as electricity coursed up his arm, and his body stiffened as it arced through his wet suit. There was a great flash of light and a bang, and Peter opened his eyes to see Sandman, now Glass-man, completely solidified. 

**“You h-have now melt-melted the web-shooters on your-your right arm, too,”** Karen said, her voice garbled. Probably a result of all that electricity.

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. He killed Sandman. A wave of guilt overwhelmed him, and he felt like sobbing. He just KILLED someone! He just… poor Keemia… 

“Kid? Kid? Are you awake?” Tony’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m good,” Peter rasped.

“I’m coming, I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Tony promised.

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter coughed, “I’m good. I stopped him. I-” his voice broke, and he hesitated. “Just… can you please get Keemia? I don’t want anyone to hurt her.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tony commanded. “We’ve already got Rhodey, Nat, and Cap looking for her, ok? Just try and stay awake.” 

“G-good,” Peter stuttered, then whispered, “Mr. Stark… I killed him.”

“What?” Tony said, confused. 

“I killed him,” Peter repeated, his voice even weaker this time. “I- he…” 

Why was it so hard to speak?

“Peter!” Tony was shouting, his voice panicked, but Peter didn’t hear him. He was so tired… 

Peter closed his eyes, and everything went dark. 

…………………… 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

What was that irritating noise?

Awareness came to him slowly. He felt soft sheets around him, heard the whirring of machines, and tasted an almost metallic bitterness. Was he in the Medbay?

What had happened again?

Peter opened his eyes a crack, then groaned as bright lights attacked his vision. He slammed his eyes shut.

“FRI, turn the lights down to twenty percent,” a tired voice commanded. 

The AI complied, and Peter opened his eyes again as the brightness lowered. “Hey, Mr. Stark. What happened?” he rasped.

Tony looked concerned. “You don’t remember?” he asked worriedly. “The giant sand-”

“Ohhhh,” Peter said, then shot up in his bed, yelping at the pain in his side, legs, back, arms, head… everywhere, really. 

“Did you find Keemia? Is she ok?” Peter gasped, fighting the pain.

Tony gently pushed him back down. “Yeah, we found her,” he assured the teenager. “She’s safe.”

Peter let out a sigh of relief and sunk back into the soft bed. “Now,” Tony began, “What the HELL were you thinking?”

Peter squinted and looked up at Tony. “What do you mean?” he said, confused.

“Why didn’t you call for backup?” Tony practically yelled.

Peter shrugged. “I had it all under control,” he said coolly. 

“Under- kid, by the time we got to you, it was-” his voice cracked “-it was bad.”

“Well, I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Peter said calmly. He tried to ignore the guilt that felt like it was eating him up from the inside. “I’m… I’m good, ok Mr. Stark? Thanks for saving me, I guess,” Peter muttered. He closed his eyes.

He killed Sandman.

Tony sighed heavily, then sat down again next to Peter’s bed. “Look, Peter, I’m not mad, I’m just…” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Concerned. I don’t want you to get killed fighting alone when you could’ve had us as backup, ok?”

“Ok,” Peter muttered, not meeting Tony’s eyes. 

“Is… something else bothering you?” Tony asked hesitantly. 

“No,” Peter answered quickly, too quickly. He blushed under Tony’s skeptical gaze. “Just… what’s going to happen to Keemia?” Peter asked. “I don’t want her to go to foster care and be all alone, just because I…” he trailed off. 

“Because you what?” Tony asked carefully, his tone even.

“Because I killed her father,” Peter whispered, the guilt evident in his eyes. 

“Oh, kid,” Tony said, not unkindly. “He’s not dead.”

Peter shot up again, ignoring Tony’s protests. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Sit.” Tony commanded, glaring at the teenager. When Peter dutifully laid back down, the older man continued. “To be completely honest, I have absolutely no idea. But if I figure it out, we’ll let you know,” he concluded bluntly. 

Peter grinned. Sandman wasn’t dead! Keemia wasn’t an orphan!

“Of course, they’ll still be complications,” Tony continued. “For one, he’s made out of sand, has only partial guardianship, and, well, he did destroy a lot of property and almost kill several people. And he’s an ex-convict, which means the whole situation is even more complicated,” the billionaire said. 

“But it wasn’t his fault!” Peter said, distraught. “He was being blackmailed!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s complicated,” Tony said. “But at least everyone’s alive and safe.”

“Yeah,” Peter said softly, closing his eyes. 

“Get some rest, ok kid?” Tony commanded.

“Fine,” Peter grumbled, but drifted off to sleep less than a minute later.

Tony stood up and quietly walked toward the door. He’d barely made it ten feet from the doorway when a dark shadow materialized next to him.

“Tony,” Natasha said, and the billionaire yelped in surprise. 

“God, Nat, don’t do that!” he said fiercely. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, if that kid doesn’t do it first.”

“So. The kid.” Nat began, but was cut off from Tony.

“Nope. Nu-uh. Spider-Man deserves his privacy and don’t you DARE go snooping about his identity.”

“As if you could stop me,” Natasha scoffed.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I can,” he responded. “FRIDAY, initiate the Squash the Sneaky Spider protocol.”

FRIDAY hummed and complied. **“The protocol has now been put in place. Spider-Man’s room is completely safe from, as you said, “any prying eyes or irritating red headed spies with no sense of respect for a secret identity.”**

Tony smirked. “Good.” He turned and walked away, leaving a secretly-angry-and-very-disappointed-but-hiding-it Natasha in the hallway. 

The spy smirked. “Oh, I’ll find out soon enough,” Natasha promised. Tony could try and hide it from her, but when she was determined, he wouldn’t be able to hide it from her.

Natasha was going to find out who Spider-Man was, and Tony wasn’t going to be able to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading! I love reading and responding to all of your comments, and I literally cannot even put into works how happy it makes me that some people actually enjoy reading these haha. Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who helps me by pointing out grammatical errors and stuff like that... I don't have anyone to beta my story (if you're interested, let me know!!!). Also if anyone wants to do art for the fic... :)))))) I would LOOOOOVE that
> 
> P.S. I have a tumblr now! Come scream at me (marveloustimes20) and see my FIRST PUBLISHED ART that's a sneak peak for next chapter... :)


	7. Tony Says… Take Out the Trash, Youngling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ok, Karen, how much more time do I have?” Peter asked, slightly breathless.
> 
> “It has been approximately one hour and forty-seven minutes since Tony Stark left and you started patrol,” his AI stated.
> 
> “Perfect! I’ll just swing back to the tower and stop any muggings that happen on the way,” Peter said happily. Yeah, he was in a good mood. It was amazing to finally be out on patrol again. 
> 
> He was only a couple blocks away from the Tower when he heard a piercing scream. Peter turned to see a hulking man in a scorpion costume attacking a group of civilians. “You’re kidding,” Peter groaned. He had six minutes. He could wrap this up in six minutes… right? Probably.
> 
> *with art*

“Woo-hoo!”

Peter let out a whoop of joy as he swung through the streets of New York, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He let his momentum carry him upward, the let go of the web as he neared the top. Time seemed to freeze as he reached the top of his arc, and Peter let out another happy yell as he started to fall downward. As he plummeted toward the ground, the teenager held his arm against his body to streamline his fall. The ground was coming closer, and closer, and closer at an almost alarming speed.

_3… 2… 1…_

The vigilante twisted and shot a strand of webbing, feeling the pull in his shoulders as gravity fought with his freedom. A crowd gathered below him gaped as Peter plummeted towards them, only to swing up at the last minute, so close that his toes skimmed the top of a hot dog stand.

As Peter swung higher and higher, climbing between buildings until he was at the top of a massive high-rise, he felt freed by the thrill of swinging through New York. This was freedom, this was pure bliss, this was-

“Kid!” Tony’s concerned voice sounded in his ear. “You _just_ recovered, can you _please_ try and wait a week before you gravely injure yourself again?” Preferably, Peter would _never_ have injuries that severe again, but knowing him, the kid would be in the Medbay again by the end of the week. It was as if he was purposely trying to give Tony a heart attack. 

He honestly thought he was going to have one when he found Peter passed out in the sand, limbs splayed out at awkward angles, arms bubbling with burns, blood everywhere… even the thought of the scene made him want to vomit. Thank God for Pepper and Rhodey, and Cho’s miracle healing, or Peter would be dead and Tony would be in an even worse state.

“Look, Mr. Stark! There’s a baby pigeon over there-”

A harsh cry sounded and Peter gasped, then continued, sounding quite crestfallen. 

“Uh, never mind. They just got eaten by a peregrine falcon.” 

Tony barked out a laugh. Of course that would happen to Peter.

The billionaire flew over to where Peter was perched and landed beside him on the rooftop. “Well, kid, I think it’s time we head back, I have a meeting-” Tony made a face “-with the Avengers today, gotta get back to the tower.”

Peter perked up. “No way! That sounds awesome!”

“Yeah, about as awesome as getting eaten by a falcon” Tony said sarcastically. “Come on, let’s head back. You can do some homework or Snapgram or whatever young people do these days in their spare time while I’m in the meeting”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s Snapchat and Instagram and you know it,” the teenager reprimanded him. “And… I think I’ll stay out for a bit longer! Do some patrolling for a couple hours. But don’t worry,” he added hastily, “I’ll be back in time for lab time. If you want. Er, or I can swing home.”

Tony resisted the urge to reach out and ruffle Peter’s hair, knowing that 1) he wasn’t the kid’s father and 2) Peter was wearing the mask anyways. “I need your help on looking over some upgraded web-shooter designs, kid. But are you sure you’re up for it? Patrol, I mean,” Tony specified quickly.

Peter brightened visibly, his head perking up. “Of course I’m up for it! It’ll be easy stuff, don’t worry Mr. Stark,” the teenager assured. 

“Ok, just… be careful,” Tony said slowly. “Don’t go fighting any sentient sand monsters or giant lizards or whatever the hell New York manages to conjure. Capisce?”

“Ok, ok, _ok_ , I will!” Peter promised eagerly. “I’ll be super careful! I promise! Besides,” he huffed, “you have your ridiculously-named protocols to watch over me.”

“Hell right I do,” Tony agreed. He stood up, and activated his repulsors. “Fine. Be safe. Be back at the tower in two hours. _No later_. I’m trusting you, young man,” Tony said sternly, painfully aware of how much he sounded like a father.

“Yeah, yeah, ok thanks!” Peter said quickly. The teenager stood up as well. “Have fun at your meeting! Geronimooooooo!” he yelled as he dove off of the building, giving Tony yet _another_ heart attack.

* * *

“Ok, Karen, where should we go?” Peter asked as he twisted and swung. “Please tell me there’s a mugging nearby!” He paused. “Wow, that sounds absolutely evil of me, doesn’t it. Well… you know what I mean.”

“ **Yes, Peter, I do** ,” the AI said, sounding surprisingly affectionate. **“There’s a mugging going on about two blocks from here. Would you like directions?** ”

“Uh, yeah, of course!” Peter chirped. He followed her directions and swung down, using his momentum to push the mugger to the ground. He quickly webbed him to the wall, the bowed gentlemanly at the woman he saved.

“Thanks, Spidey!” she yelled, looking grateful even as her cheeks were stained with tears.

Peter saluted. “No problem, citizen,” he said, making his voice deep. Man, it felt good to be out on patrol again. 

He swung around for a while, apprehending mugger after mugger, stopping a simple robbery, and even saving a kitten from a tree. Peter was careful and didn’t sustain any injuries, because he knew Tony would bring the whole legion of Iron Man suits after Peter if he had so much as a scratch.

“Ok, Karen, how much more time do I have?” Peter asked, slightly breathless.

“ **It has been approximately one hour and forty-seven minutes since Tony Stark left and you started patrol** ,” his AI stated.

“Perfect! I’ll just swing back to the tower and stop any muggings that happen on the way,” Peter said happily. Yeah, he was in a good mood. It was _amazing_ to finally be out on patrol again. 

He was only a couple blocks away from the Tower when he heard a piercing scream. Peter turned to see a hulking man in a scorpion costume attacking a group of civilians. “You’re kidding,” Peter groaned. He had six minutes. He could wrap this up in six minutes… right? Probably.

Peter changed directions abruptly and dove toward the commotion. Some whack-job going on about how he’d been wronged, was taking revenge, yadda yadda yadda…

“It’s not Halloween, is it?” Peter said, his voice full of mock-confusion. “No? Is it dress-up-in-the-lamest-costume-you-can-find day?” He landed lightly beside the man in the scorpion costume. “It’s not that, either? Then why in the world would you intentionally dress in something as ugly as _that_?”

The man roared and puffed out his chest. “Cower in terror, Spiderman,” he proclaimed. “For I am The Scor-”

“Wait, nuh uh,” Peter said, holding up a hand. “There’s a hyphen. It’s Spider-Man. Here the pause?” Peter flipped out of the way as Scorpion threw a punch. “Is it really that hard for people to respect the hyphen? Come on, man! I really need to work on my branding.”

“Shu-”

“-t up, you irritating child,” Peter said, right as Scorpion did. When the villain blinked in surprise, Peter continued. “It’s not mind reading- although yes, that would be cool. You’re just insanely predictable. Just like all those other stereotypical, loony whack-jobs who decide to take revenge on helpless citizens.”

Scorpion spluttered. “I- I’m not stereotypical! I’m original!”

“So you agree that you’re a loony whack-job?” Peter said gleefully, as he flipped around the Scorpion, landing a punch every once in a while. That armor was thick, but he’d be able to break through it easily if he got enough momentum. 

Scorpion literally blushed. “What! No! I’m not loony! I’m taking revenge for- _mmph!_ ” He growled angrily when Peter webbed his mouth, one of the only visible parts of his face, shut.

“That’s better,” Peter said triumphantly. He dodged another punch from Scorpion and landed one on the other man’s shoulder, hard enough to crack his armor. The man whirled around, and his scorpion-like tail raised menacingly. The point looked sharp, gleaming in the sunlight and suspiciously shiny. 

Peter took a quick breath as the Scorpion struggled to rip the webbing off of his mouth. He scanned the area and saw a few civilians watching and filming instead of running away. Peter tried to motion to them to get away from here, but instead they gasped as Peter’s spider-sense tingled. 

“Wha-”

 _Schink_.

Peter rolled out of the way right as the metal tail jabbed right where his head had been, making a metallic sound as it glanced off a pole. 

“Karen, how long has it been?” Peter asked, worried. Mr. Stark would kill him if he was late.

“ **You now have four minutes until you need to be at the tower, Peter,** ” Karen said. 

“Okay, okay, let’s try and wrap this up,” Peter replied, then paused. “And Karen… Can you get a reading on this guy? I swear I recognize him.” 

“ **His name is Mac Gargan** ,” Karen supplied calmly.

“That’s right!” Peter said. “Didn’t he work with the Vulture? Isn’t he supposed to be in jail?”

“I broke out, dumbass,” Gargan said, growling. “And I’ve come to take revenge on you for-”

“No way!” Peter said, fighting to keep his voice upbeat as Gargan landed a couple of punches. “You broke-” Peter grunted as he broke through the armor on Gargan’s chest- “-out of jail-” the teenager barely ducked as the tail sliced toward his head “-just for me? I’m honore- _oops_.”

Peter let out a little yelp as he flew across the clearing and slammed against the wall. Gargan had smacked him, baseball-style, right as Peter had tried to leap over him. “That’ll leave a mark,” Peter wheezed. His back ached, but luckily he didn’t think he’d broken anything. 

“Yes, my suit gives me augmented strength,” Gargan practically preened. Peter took a defensive stance (or his attempt at one… he hadn’t really ever received any training. Like. Ever.) as Gargan approached. The villain kept ripping through his webbing, so Peter would have to knock him out then secure him very tightly. 

The teenager glanced at the time on one of the large billboards. Three minutes. 

“Mind if we finish this quickly?” Peter asked innocently. “I have somewhere to be. I’m kind of a big deal, really.”

The teenager ducked and dodged as Gargan threw punches. Peter’s plan was to get above the Scorpion so he could gather enough momentum to knock the man out and then wrap him up securely. 

However, as Peter leapt up, Gargan managed to slash him, his tail glancing across Peter’s right arm. It wasn’t deep, and didn’t hurt much, but as Peter landed on the wall he had been intending to climb up, his right side stiffened and he lost his grip on the wall, falling down and landing in a dumpster bin. 

Peter yelped as he landed on something sharp that sliced open his suit right above his collarbone. He tried to get up, but found that his body wasn’t responding. 

“Uhhmmmg… Karen, wh’t?” Peter forced out, his tongue feeling like lead. Ok, that cut was _really_ starting to sting now.

“ **It seems that the Scorpion’s tail contains a neurotoxin that causes temporary paralysis, prevents blood clots in the site of the wound, and causes severe pain at the site of the wound. However, you should regain movement within quite soon, as your enhanced metabolism results in the neurotoxin being effective for only a very brief amount of time. Would you like me to call Tony Stark? You haven’t received any life-threatening injuries, but I’d still suggest-** ”

“No, no, ‘s okay, Karen,” Peter forced out, letting out a small grunt as he managed to move his legs a bit. It was already getting easier to move, although he couldn’t feel his right arm at all. That was an impressively strong neurotoxin, but thank God for his enhanced metabolism.

Still, Peter couldn’t do much when the Scorpion loomed over him and grabbed Peter by the throat. Besides twitch aggressively, but that didn’t really intimidate the man.

“Ha! I’ve got you now, Spider-Man,” the Scorpion said triumphantly, (and yes, Peter noticed that the Scorpion had learned to respect the hyphen. Oh, the importance of successful branding.) “You won’t be able to move for at least three or four hours, so I can have a bit of… fun with you.”

 _So he doesn’t know about my enhanced metabolism_ , Peter thought gratefully. Well, he could use that to his advantage. Right?

Peter grunted as the Scorpion savagely punched him in the gut. “That’s for ruining my face,” Scorpion hissed, and his tail hovered over Peter’s heart. “I’d kill you right now, pest, but I’m being paid handsomely to bring you in alive for study. They did say I could have some fun, though,” the Scorpion said, humming thoughtfully. 

Peter could now feel his legs and his left arm. He tensed his muscles, relieved to feel that he could move all three of those limbs. Just one more second…

Gargan punched Peter again, then paused. “But what I really want to know,” he crooned, “is Spider-Man’s identity.”

Peter barely managed to suppress a gasp as Gargan reached toward his chin. Right as the other man started to pull up Peter’s mask, the teenager mustered all the strength he could and punched Gargan in the face. Hard.

The Scorpion staggered, a look of surprise visible through his cracked helmet. As he fell forward, unconscious, the Scorpion’s tail nicked Peter’s side, and the teenager dropped back into the dumpster bin. 

Peter groaned, spitting out whatever foul thing had just entered his mouth. His mask was pulled up to his nose, exposing half of his face. Well, hopefully nobody saw that. Not one of his finest moments. 

The teenager managed to pull himself out of the bin, flopping over the side and landing on the hard ground. A teenager huddled in the back of the alley stared at him, eyes wide and phone out.

“Uh, you okay, Spidey?”

Peter pulled his mask back down and waved weakly. “I’m good,” he said, then tripped over Gargan, yelping as he face-planted on the asphalt. 

He threw off a banana peel that had managed to perch on his head, and staggered to his feet, spending approximately forty-two seconds ripping off Gargan’s costume and securing both the villain and his costume to the wall. Peter used up a whole cartridge of web-fluid tying up the villain. There was _no way_ he was able to escape. 

Limbs tingling, Peter sprinted to a different alley, grabbed his backpack (where he’d stashed it at the start of patrol), and hastily changed. God, he smelled _disgusting_. He was covered in blood, dirt, smears of old banana, and he didn’t even want to think about what had dripped onto his suit and leaked through the tears in the cloth.

Peter glanced at the time, then swore. _Shit_. He was a minute late, Mr. Stark was going to kill him! The teenager sprinted as well as he could, stumbling occasionally as his body refused to be coordinated (his arm was still partially numb, and his other limbs were tingling uncomfortably, but at least he could walk) and finally skidding to a stop at the entrance he used to the tower. 

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, and cursed the elevator for moving so slowly. As he stepped out onto the floor of the main common room, where he’d take a separate elevator to the labs, Peter sighed in relief. Looks like Mr. Stark was late too; they’d agreed to meet here before heading down. In fact, Peter heard a door creak open, and heard Tony speaking. Looks like he’d just ended; thank God for late meetings. 

This relief vanished quickly, however, when Peter heard a multitude of voices accompanying Tony’s. The teenager froze when the _freaking Avengers_ entered the common room. 

Half of the Avengers immediately dropped into an attacking position, their guards up at the sight of a person they didn’t know in the common room. Everyone was silent for a moment. 

“Who the hell are you?” Falcon asked, eyes narrowed.

Peter froze, his brain incapable of functioning as he took in the sight of his heroes pointing an assortment of guns, arrows, and knives at him. 

“Um… hi?” Peter squeaked. “I-I’m, uh, ohmygod, I’m Mr. Stark’s intern?” he barely managed to stammer out, not sure if the wave of lightheadedness that washed over him was a result of the neurotoxin or his internal freak out. 

A woman dressed in black with brilliant red hair spoke up. “Tony doesn’t take interns,” she stated calmly, her eyes guarded. 

Peter nearly passed out again when he realized that was literally THE Black Widow. “Uh….” he squeaked, unsure of what to say. Seriously, where did Tony go? Could his timing be any worse?

“So?” Black Widow prodded, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Uh…” Peter said again, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Ms. Natasha Black Widow Romanoff ma'am, but I really am his intern? I’m just… his only intern?” Why did that sound like a question?

A broad figure stepped forward, and Peter’s eyes widened as THE Captain America stepped forward. He was holding his shield, but didn’t look too concerned at Peter’s presence. “You don’t have to lie, kid,” Steve said in what was supposed to be a reassuring voice. That failed, though; Peter just found himself forcibly reminded of Cap’s PSAs. 

As Peter opened his mouth to reply, he was saved by his mentor. “Hey! Woah, woah, stand down, guys,” the older man yelled, hurrying toward Peter as he took in the scene. When none of the Avengers moved, Tony turned toward them and fixed them with a pointed glare. “Seriously. Does nobody listen to me these days? I said _stand down_. This is just my intern.”

The Avengers finally relaxed, though Natasha looked skeptical. “You don’t take interns.”

Tony coughed, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, um, that changed. Peter’s a smart kid, so I made an exception.” 

Steve looked relaxed, and stepped forward. “Peter? Nice to meet you. What do you-”

“Shh, nope, no corrupting the kid,” Tony said, his voice holding just a bit of a protective edge that suggested tension between the two men. 

“You really expect us to believe that kid is your intern? He’s literally covered in trash, Tony,” Sam said, pointing to the bits of garbage and stains that were peppered across Peter’s clothes, hair, and face. 

Tony froze, then spun around and inspected Peter closely. The teenager gave the older man a weak grin, not really sure of what to say. 

“Uh, well, he’s covered in trash because he was doing… intern things,” Tony specified, then cringed at the very weak excuse. 

“Intern things,” Clint repeated bluntly. 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, clearing his throat.

“And you guys don’t find that suspicious at all?” Sam asked, looking toward his teammates. “The kid’s obviously hiding something.” 

Tony opened his mouth to retort angrily, because _why the fuck were they having this conversation could his teammates just respect the kid’s privacy_ , but Peter spoke first.

“Y-you’re right,” Peter said, his feet shifting uncomfortably. “I- I haven’t been completely honest.”

The billionaire literally started in surprise, glancing at the teenager. Where was this going?

“Go on,” Steve said, his expression encouraging. The others watched carefully, their expression wary.

“Um… well, Tony sent me to take out the trash,” Peter began, then blushed. “Because, you know, that’s one of my intern responsibilities. But, uh, well… I got a bit distracted when I got to the bins, because, uh, there was like a _ton_ of super awesome old technology scraps that were on one side of the bin. And, like, I love finding scraps and building things, so I climbed over to try and get a better look, but then I slipped and, uh, kinda fell in.” He blushed even more furiously, then continued. “I just didn’t want to say anything because, well, it’s really embarrassing, and you guys are kinda my heroes, and… yeah.”

The Avengers looked at Peter for a solid minute, stunned into silence. That had _not_ been what they were expecting. Tony, however, started laughing so hard that his eyes filled with tears and he literally had to sit down. _This kid_ ! Only Peter would come up with a ridiculous story like that and _of course_ he would have to do it when he was literally meeting the heroes he worshipped for the first time. 

A second later, Clint and Sam started laughing too, and the tension immediately vanished from the room. Steve and Rhodey were chuckling as well, and Vision had a slight smile on his face. The only two not laughing were Wanda and Natasha. Natasha had relaxed, but there was a curious look on her face. 

Wanda, however, had frozen, her gaze trained on Peter’s face. Her eyes were filled with a red haze, and she looked like she was focusing hard. A moment later, the red disappeared and Wanda’s eyes widened. While her eyes were filled with tears, her gaze was sympathetic. After a few seconds, a small smile crept onto her face, and she looked at Peter fondly. 

Peter didn’t notice any of this, however. His face was red as he pouted at the group of heroes that were laughing at him. They only stopped, however, when Steve’s voice sounded over the laughter.

“Is that blood?”

Everyone froze and turned toward Peter. Tony tensed, and inspected the boy closely. There _was_ blood staining the front of Peter’s sweatshirt, barely visible on the dark cloth. The teenager shuffled his feet and mumbled something, clearly uncomfortable under Tony’s sharp gaze.

“What was that?” Tony demanded, trying and failing to hide the concern in his voice. 

“Uh, I may have cut myself on something sharp in the dumpster,” Peter said honestly. “I thought it wasn’t deep, so I, uh, just tried to cover it with my sweatshirt?”

“Ok, that’s enough, we’re going to get you cleaned up and stitched up. Come on, kid,” Tony said, dragging the stumbling teenager toward the elevator. Peter turned his head and waved feebly at the gawking Avengers.

The group was silent for a few moments, until Clint spoke up.

“There is _no way_ that’s just an intern.” 

The rest of the Avengers spoke up, all arguing over different theories over who Peter really was. Only Wanda and Natasha stayed silent.

The red-haired spy narrowed her eyes as she scanned a news report that popped up on her phone. _Spider-Man: Threat to Trash Cans Everywhere_ , written and published by members of the Daily Bugle. Natasha watched the short, blurry video, and smiled triumphantly. 

_Good try, Peter_ , she thought. As she watched the video again, Natasha took in the improper fighting stance and the sloppy mistakes. Had Tony not taught this kid to fight? He was going to get himself killed at this rate, and (although she’d just met him), Natasha didn’t really want that to happen. 

Looks like she was just going to have to train him herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW thank you SO MUCH to everyone for reading! Over 5,000 hits, almost 300 kudos, and so many fantastic comments! I'm literally blown away by that fact that people actually enjoy reading my writing wowow. And tell me what you think of the art... it's my first art I've ever done, really, so... yeah. 
> 
> Also! I'm now on tumblr! Come scream at me (marveloustimes20)!! And, yes, next chapter is the +1 chapter... anyone got anything they want to see for my last chapter?
> 
> ALSO! All those announcements that Marvel made! Literally WHAT! And I'm soooo hyped for the Falcon and the Winter Soldier show... it looks SO. GOOD.


	8. +1 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha casually twirled a knife in her hand. “I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
> 
> “Ok, shoot,” Tony replied distractedly, turning toward the freezer to get some ice.
> 
> “I know he’s Spider-Man.”
> 
> Tony froze, then slowly pivoted to face the smirking assassin. “Um… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said unconvincingly. 
> 
> “Yes, you do,” Natasha replied. "And I want to train him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! So... I had planned for this to be the final chapter but it seems that I'm literally unable to control myself so, once again, I'm breaking this chapter up into two. I hope you enjoy! And wow, I still can't believe that over 6000 people have read my fic! And over 330 of you guys have actually liked it enough to leave a kudos! Thank you SO MUCH everyone, this literally means the world to me.

Tony hummed as he walked around the kitchen to grab ingredients for a smoothie. He snagged a couple oranges and a handful of strawberries, depositing them on the counter beside the blender. The billionaire paused for a moment, then turned to grab a banana. As he pivoted toward the blender once again, Tony let out a small yelp and jumped when he found himself face to face with Natasha.

“What the hell, Nat!?” Tony gasped, bending down to pick up the banana he had dropped. Clutching his heart dramatically, Tony continued, “are you trying to give me a heart attack?!?”

Natasha smirked. “What, you didn’t hear me coming over? I was louder than usual to give you a heads-up about my approach.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha, hilarious.” When the assassin just quirked her eyebrows up in response, Tony continued. “Wait. Seriously? Come on, Nat, that might be considered loud to a, um... what’s an animal with good hearing?”

“Never mind that,” Natasha said. She casually twirled a knife in her hand. “I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Ok, shoot,” the billionaire replied distractedly, turning toward the freezer to get some ice.

“I know he’s Spider-Man.”

Tony froze, then slowly pivoted to face the smirking assassin. “Um… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said unconvincingly. 

“Yes, you do,” Natasha replied. “Come on, did you really think you could hide it from me? The kid’s terrible at hiding his identity.”

The billionaire cleared his throat. “Well, uh, let’s say that, hypothetically, Peter  _ was _ Spider-Man. Why does it matter?”

“Besides the fact that you recruited a 14-year-old to fight supersoldiers in Leipzig?” Natasha replied coolly. When Tony (who had the decency to look ashamed) opened his mouth to reply, the assassin cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m sure you had a reason for everything you did and, honestly, I can’t judge without being hypocritical. I started young, too. But I do want to talk to you about how remarkably irresponsible you’ve been with him after Germany.”

The man paused, and met Natasha’s eyes. He seemed to know what was coming, visibly bracing himself as he muttered, “Go on.”

“So you find this kid. He obviously has some powers- the superstrength and clinging to walls were happening even when he had his crappy suit. So what do you do? You give him a major upgrade, ship him with you to Germany, take care of him there, bring him back home, and just let him loose with no further instruction or training.”

“I had Happy watch him-” Tony began, then snapped his jaw shut at Natasha’s glare.

“I’ve done my research, Stark. He started to get in over his head, you step in a bit, help him. Then the ferry happened- the poor kid was just trying his best. He didn’t have the backup he so desperately needed until his idol, Tony Stark, showed up to save his ass again. But you were pissed with him, weren’t you. I assume you took his suit away or something, because your footage from the security cameras on your plane show him in his pajamas again.”

“How did you-” Tony began, but was cut off.

“I hacked your video files from the day. Deal with it.”

“There’s so many things wrong with that statement, but continue,” Tony said.

“The kid risks his life to save your property and your name. Gets the crap beaten out of him, stops the bad guy, recovers all of your shit. Now,” she pauses for emphasis, narrowing her eyes, “I don’t know what happens between then and you giving him his suit back. I like to think that you sent someone to check in on him and help him with his injuries, because I like to think that you’ve learned how to be a somewhat responsible adult.”

As the billionaire shifted uncomfortable, Natasha crossed her arms. “Stark, when will you learn that you can’t just use people like that? You can’t use Spider-Man when he’s convenient and just abandon him when he’s not-”

“-It’s not like that,” Tony insisted. “I don’t- I like the kid, okay? I do look out for him now. I know that I was in the wrong but I swear, it’s not like that, Nat.” He let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair, the smoothie now long forgotten. “Maybe it was at first… but now Peter means something to me.”

Natasha studied for a moment, the hostility slowly fading from her eyes. “I believe you,” she said simply. “Otherwise you wouldn’t bother having him over so frequently. You’re mentoring him, I get it,” she continued, “teaching his brilliant mind everything you can think of. You’re making a mini Stark.” Amusement colored the assassin’s voice. “But you’re missing something huge. Yes, you’re mentoring Peter Parker. But you’ve failed to mentor Spider-Man. And no, giving him a fancy multi-million dollar suit doesn’t count as mentoring.”

“I know, I know…” Tony muttered, then sighed once more. “Well… what do you think I should do?”

“Let me teach him.” 

Tony looked up at Natasha. She held his gaze, completely calm. There was a long beat of silence, and Tony finally gave in and let out a bark of laughter. 

“You want to teach him? Am I hearing this right? You, Black Widow, are volunteering to tutor a teenage superhero?” He chuckled again, unable to suppress his laughter.

Natasha shrugged, her cool demeanor betraying no emotion. “He seems like a good kid,” she offered simply. “It’d be a shame if he got killed because of lack of proper training.”

That silenced Tony, and he looked at Natasha thoughtfully. “You’re right,” the billionaire replied slowly. “I do want to keep him safe. And there’s nobody more qualified to teach him than you, Nat.” He let out a long sigh, and raked his hair with his hands. “Just be careful with him, okay? Don’t, like, break the kid or anything. His aunt would kill me.”

His friend smiled, an amused glint in her eyes. “Oh, I’ll be careful with him. I knew you cared,” she added jokingly.

Tony sniffed haughtily. “I guess I care. Don’t you dare tell anyone, though,” he threatened. “Especially not the team. I’m not sure my reputation could survive that.”

Natasha let out a small laugh. “Tony… everybody already knows,” she stated with a hint of sympathy. “It’s quite obvious that you love the kid.” She shook her head at Tony’s affronted expression. “Now go make your smoothie. Tell the kid our first session is tomorrow at seven.”

With that, the red-haired assassin turned and walked away, footsteps silent. Tony gathered himself and yelled at her retreating figure. “He’s a teenager, you know! They don’t get up until eleven on Saturday’s!”

………………………………

“Of course I’ll be there!” Peter squeaked excitedly. He hadn’t stopped bouncing since Mr. Stark called him to tell him about his training with Natasha. “I don’t care that it’s early! I’d get up at three in the morning to train with THE Black Widow! Wow, wow, WOW! She’s so amazing! She’s going to beat the crap out of me! Mr. Stark, this is amazing!”

“Okay, slow down, kid,” Tony said fondly. “And… I find it slightly disturbing that you’re so excited to get your ass beat-”

“Yeah, but I’m getting my ass beat by Black Widow!” Peter chirped. “That makes it SO COOL!”

“First of all, language,” Tony said sternly.

“You just-”

“Nu-uh, only adults get to use big person words. Now zip it, and listen up. Nat will be training you to fight properly. No, this does not mean that you are an Avenger and no, this does not mean that you will be going on  _ any _ missions with the Avengers. This is just so you can handle yourself when you’re patrolling. Got it?” Tony was still a little nervous about this arrangement, which is why he waited until tonight to tell Peter about it. 

“Yes, yes, ohmygodthisissocool!”

“One more thing.” Tony paused, then decided to just go with it. “She offered to train Spider-Man, yes, but… she knows that you’re Spider-Man.”

A beat of silence followed. 

“Kid? Please tell me you didn’t just pass out from shock or something.”

“Uh, no, yeah, it’s fine,” Peter assured Tony, his voice strong and certain. “I mean, she’s, like, the best spy in the world! Of course she found out.”

“Well then, uh, good,” Tony said lamely. “Okay, Happy will pick you up at 6:20 tomorrow and give you a ride to the Tower-”

“-no, it’s ok, I can swing there Mr. Stark!” Peter interrupted. He didn’t want to bother Happy that early in the morning; Avengers Tower wasn’t too far by web, anyways. 

“No, Happy will pick you up,” Tony answered firmly. “Okay? Good talk.” He hung up before Peter could protest any further.

The teenager let out a little huff of annoyance and sat down dramatically, crossing his arms. He thought he was doing a fantastic job of radiating teenager angst until he realized that his sole witness was a rather unimpressed pigeon that was sitting a few feet away from him. 

“Scram,” Peter said grumpily, and tossed a small clot of dirt at the bird, immediately feeling bad when the pigeon squawked in protest and took a few steps backward. “Sorry! Sorry, Mr. Pigeon!”

After giving the bird a few crumbs of his sandwich, Peter tossed his paper wrapped into a trash can and continued his patrol. Friday night patrols were always the best and the worst; it was so freeing to be out and swinging around Queens knowing that he wouldn’t have to wake up for school tomorrow. But at the same time, for some unknown, terrible reason, it was as if  _ every criminal  _ in Queens decided to do all of their criminaling at the same time. He dove down from where he was perched and began his usual crime-fighting. 

Seven attempted muggings, two lost old ladies, three almost-bank-robberies and one cat later, Peter took a moment to relax as he perched on a lamppost, wincing slightly as he rubbed his shoulders. Man, swinging around the city was  _ hard _ . Sure, he had super strength and whatever but throwing his body from such heights at such a high velocity and then putting all the pressure on his shoulders was not fun. Thank god for super healing and super strength, otherwise he’d have dislocated his shoulders hundreds of times over by now.

The sounds of muffled sobbing interrupted Peter’s train of thought. He leapt to his feet and swung over to see what looked like another mugging. A tall, muscular man, reeking of alcohol and holding a gun, staggered toward a teenage boy wearing what looked like a very expensive outfit. Man, did this kid  _ want _ to be mugged? Either that or he was truly stupid if he thought it was a good idea to walk around the streets of Queens at 11:30 wearing designer clothes and accessories. 

“Why hello, sir!” Peter said somewhat sarcastically as he dove down and knocked the gun out of the man’s grasp, spinning it to the side and webbing it to the bricks beside them. As the man swore furiously, Peter let out a shocked gasp. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asked as he webbed the mugger’s mouth shut. 

Peter spared a moment to glance at the teenager he had saved. Wait. Was that-

“What the- oh my- Spidey!” Flash Thompson exclaimed happily, face streaked with tears. “Oh my God! You saved me! Thank you! Mr. Spider-Man sir, this is a huge honor-”

“No problem, Fl- uh, citizen,” Peter said with a faux deep voice. “Now get out of here… and be more, uh, careful in the future.”

“I will but- what are you going to do about the rest of them?”

“Other-” Peter turned sharply and saw several men approaching him from the shadows. “Uh. I’ll be fine. Now get out of here!”

Flash scrambled to his feet and ran away, hollering, “Thank you sir! And if you’re ot busy next week can I interview you???”

Peter rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the five men surrounding him. This was strange; did they just all mug people together? Or was this an organized attempt to kidnap Flash?

“Welcome to the party!” Peter greeted casually as the men surrounded him. “There’s nothing like Friday Night Mugging, am I right? Now, I’m really, really sorry to ruin your fun, but you can’t just go around ganging up on innocent- well, somewhat innocent- teenagers like that!”

One of the men let out a derisive laugh. “You can’t possibly think that Thompson scum is innocent,” he spat. 

So it was a planned attempt of some sort. Well, that wasn’t good.

“Well, he definitely doesn’t deserve, uh, whatever you were planning,” Peter countered with fake confidence. “But seriously, while I’d love to hang around and chat about this all day, I have places to go and people to see so-” he leapt up and webbed one man to the wall, landing on the bricks above for a moment. 

The four other men pulled out their guns and Peter held his hands out. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he squeaked, then rolled his eyes when that actually worked. The teenager leapt up and dove down into the mass of disgusting-smelling bodies, disarming the men with perfectly placed punches and kicks. One of the men managed to land a punch, and Peter slipped, grunting as another thug kicked him in the ribs. 

“That was not nice,” Peter muttered as he retaliated with a hit of his own, pulling his punch so as to not cave in the man’s skull. Two men down. As Peter turned, his spider-sense buzzed and he ducked just in time to avoid another hit. Two of the men had grabbed their guns again, but Peter easily disarmed them. But he must’ve not been paying well enough attention, because, as he turned to web a third man to the wall, he felt a sharp pain in his gut.

The teenager let out a little hiss of pain as he trapped all but one of the men. Said man was currently staring at Peter, mouth open in surprise. In his hand he held a disturbingly large knife. The entire blade was coated in dark blood. 

“Did I just… stab Spider-Man?” he asked, voice full of wonder.

Peter froze. How the hell did he manage to hide a knife of that size from him? The teenager shook his head and forced himself to speak with a light tone. “Trust me, you’re not special. It’s happened before,” he said as he flicked his wrist and pinned the last man to the wall. “Good doing business with you!” Peter said as he swung away.

He dropped his facade once he was by himself. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed as he cupped a hand around his abdomen to slow the blood flow.

**“May I suggest that you contact Tony Stark?”** Karen said somewhat reproachfully, as if she was still annoyed at Peter for disabling the protocols that forced her to send injury reports to Mr. Stark. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Peter replied as blood dripped out between his fingers. He grimaced in pain as he wrapped his wound in webs and stood up shakily. “Well, that was a great patrol,” Peter said to nobody in particular as the world spun around him. 

Twenty grueling minutes later, Peter managed to pull himself through the window in his bedroom and stagger over to the bathroom, where he peeled his suit off and collapsed on the floor. Thank God May was working the night shift today- she would’ve had a heart attack and then called Mr. Stark. 

The sweaty teenager groaned as he reached up to grab his first-aid kid, wincing as his wound stung with the application of the antibacterial liquid. Instead of stitching himself up, Peter grabbed a small bottle of medical-grade superglue that he used to try and close the incision. After doing that, he carefully wrapped his abdomen and forced himself to stand up, closing his eyes as a burning pain shot through his stomach. 

After finishing this, Peter went through his standard cleaning procedure, mopping the blood off of the floor and sanitizing. Exhausted, he set his alarm for 6:00 and fell asleep. 

………………………………

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. _

Peter groaned as reached out and flung the offending alarm clock across the room. He rolled over, jolting awake instantly when his abdomen flared with pain. Well, at least it wasn’t nearly as bad as the day before. Thank you, super healing.

After staggering out of bed, Peter splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. Before he put a fresh shirt on, he painstakingly peeled off his bandages and frowned at his wound. He’d only been stabbed a few times, but he was  _ pretty _ sure that it wasn’t supposed to be red and filled with pus. Well… Peter glanced at the clock. He had ten minutes before Happy was going to pick him up and, well, he couldn’t just skip a training session with THE Black Widow because of a little cut! 

So, Peter clenched his jaw and applied another round of disinfectant before re-wrapping his abdomen. That would have to do for now. 

At 6:20, Peter walked downstairs and met a caffeinated Happy outside of his apartment. “You good, kid?” Happy said, taking in Peter’s slightly flushed cheeks and the bead of sweat trailing down his face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Peter replied convincingly. “I’m just so excited to train with Ms. Black Widow!”

Happy looked skeptical but didn’t push any further. “Well, get in the car, then,” he grouched. Peter happily obliged, wincing only a little as he bent down to climb in. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Avengers Tower.

“This is so cool,” Peter breathed as he craned his neck to look up at the Tower. 

“You’ve been to the Tower multiple times,” Happy grumbled behind him.

“Yeah, but this time I get to train with Black Widow!” Peter shot back, ignoring the pain that flared through his abdomen as he threw his hands up for emphasis. Happy just rolled his eyes and ushered Peter inside.

  
This was going to be  _ so cool _ …


	9. +1 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe we should stop,” Natasha began, but was interrupted by Peter.  
> “Nope!” the teenager forced out, then lunged at Natasha. He actually did quite decently, all things considered; Peter managed to dodge a few of Natasha’s attacks and even landed a few hits of his own. As they sparred, everything faded into a haze, and soon Peter was relying purely on his spider-sense to warn him of Natasha’s attacks. His ears were ringing, black spots were dancing in his vision, and he felt so uncomfortably hot…  
> He felt a sharp pain, then everything went dark.

Peter’s eyes widened as they approached the training room. “Am I just going to be training in my sweats?” the teenager asked Happy. “Or should I change?” Hopefully Happy wasn’t going to make him change, as there was still a rather large and obvious gash in the front of his suit.

The older man continued walking, not even glancing at Peter. “You’ll stay in what you’re wearing,” he instructed. “That’s what Natasha requested, at least.” 

“Cool- cool, cool, okay,” Peter said excitedly, bouncing a little. He let out a small gasp when the movement caused pain to flair in his abdomen, and Happy turned sharply to scrutinize Peter.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Happy asked skeptically. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just excited,” Peter assured the older man as he tried to subtly wipe the sweat off of his forehead. 

Happy just grunted and opened the door to the training room for Peter. The teenager steeled his nerves and forced himself to walk through the doorway. 

Natasha was standing in the center of the room, talking to Tony. Peter could feel his heart racing with excitement, and he was (almost) grateful for the flaring pain in his stomach because it kept him focused and stopped him from freaking out (well, externally. He was definitely having a MAJOR internal freak-out). 

Natasha and Tony turned towards him as they heard the doors close. Tony looked a bit apprehensive, while Natasha just looked calm and collected. 

“Uh… h-hi Mr. Stark! And Ms. Black Widow ma’am!” Peter squeaked. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony said casually, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You ready?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” the teenager replied. He turned toward Natasha and managed a breathless “you’regonnatotallykickmyassbutI’msoexcited!”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth quirked up in amusement. “You’re right,” she replied casually. “And you can call me Nat.”

Peter’s eyes widened comically. “Okay Ms. Bla- uh, Nat!”

Tony huffed in mock anger. “Seriously? You  _ still _ call me Mr. Stark but she gets Nat your second time talking to her?”

“If she tells me to call her Nat, I call her Nat,” Peter replied seriously. “I do  _ anything _ that she tells me.”

The billionaire threw his hands up in the air. “But- never mind,” he grumbled as Nat shot him a look that was both a glare and a gloat. “Fine. Have fun getting your ass kicked, kid. And you,” he said, shooting Natasha a look, “be careful. I’m trusting you.”

“Of course,” the assassin replied. As Tony walked away to sit down, she turned her attention toward Peter. “I’m sure Happy already told you- no suit. No tech, no webs, no AIs. Just your powers and your instincts.” 

“Okay!” the teenager replied eagerly.

Natasha led him over to the mats and padded area, then turned toward Peter. “Now attack me.”

“Uh… are you sure?” Peter asked nervously. He didn’t want to hurt the assassin with his enhanced strength. “Because I-  _ oof _ !”

During his hesitation, Natasha had quickly swept his feet out from under him and pinned him within seconds. “And you’re dead,” she said casually. “Lesson One: Always be prepared for an attack.”

Peter slowly got up, ignoring the sharp pain. He’d developed an uncannily strong level of pain tolerance, so he just ignored the throbs and turned to face Natasha. “Woah!” he exclaimed. “That was so fast! So cool!”

“It was simple,” Natasha replied casually. “Now come here. Your stance is all wrong.” 

She spent a few minutes analyzing his fighting stance, teaching him how to stand and how to throw a proper punch. After this, she demonstrated a few basic moves and was quite impressed by his intuition and natural skill. 

About an hour into her instruction, Natasha stopped Peter, having decided he had sufficient basic training. “Are you up for some sparring?” she asked the teenager. Peter’s cheeks were flushed and his face was coated in a thin layer of sweat, while Natasha wasn’t even out of breath. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good,” Peter gasped as he barely managed to stand up straight. The room  _ probably _ wasn’t supposed to be spinning like that, right?

“You sure, kid?” Tony called from where he was sitting. “You seem a little, uh, tired. More tired than usual.”

“No, I’m good,” Peter insisted once again, then pivoted to face Natasha. He forced a grin. “You ready?”

Before he could even move, he was on his back and she’d pinned him. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he wheezed. As he staggered to his feet again, he swayed and almost fell over.

“Maybe we should stop,” Natasha began, but was interrupted by Peter.

“Nope!” the teenager forced out, then lunged at Natasha. He actually did quite decently, all things considered; Peter managed to dodge a few of Natasha’s attacks and even landed a few hits of his own. As they sparred, everything faded into a haze, and soon Peter was relying purely on his spider-sense to warn him of Natasha’s attacks. His ears were ringing, black spots were dancing in his vision, and he felt so uncomfortably hot…

He felt a sharp pain, then everything went dark.

_ “Peter! _ ”

…………...

Natasha danced around the teenager as he swung and missed. Although she wasn’t ever going to admit it, she was quite impressed with Peter. He was extremely agile, very bright, and willing to learn. He’d made considerable progress even within the last hour. 

They went at it for a few minutes; she’d swing and he’d dodge, he’d land a hit, she’d counter and nearly pin in, he’d escape in the nick of time. She was sweating a bit, but nothing compared to Peter; the teenager was dripping buckets of sweat. He was starting to falter a bit, eyes clouding over, but she assumed that was because he was tired or his adrenaline was fading. 

This was the longest that he’d lasted (granted, they’d only sparred a few times) and he was holding steady, so Natasha decided to go a bit harder. She used one of her favorite moves, flipping around the teenager and kneeing him in the gut, not too hard but hard enough to knock the wind out of most people. 

She hit him and he yelped and the assassin paused and watched as Peter seemed to wobble before collapsing, almost in slow motion. Natasha dove to catch his head before it made contact with the floor. 

“ _ Peter!” _ Tony yelled, jumping up from his seat. He sprinted over to Natasha and practically wrenched the boy from her grasp. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Natasha was, for once, at a loss for words. “I- I just-”

But Tony wasn’t listening. The billionaire was leaning over Peter, frantically tapping his flushed face in an attempt to wake up the teenager. “Peter? C’mon, kid, wake up!”

“What’s going on?”

Natasha turned to see a very confused and perplexed Avengers team. “What’s Peter doing in the training room?” Sam asked Nat. 

Steve muscled his way through his teammates and approached the trio on the ground. “What happened to him?” he asked professionally. 

“I was sparring with him-” Natasha began, but was interrupted.

“What? Why?” Clint asked, clearly dumbfounded. Peter was quite young, and seeing him like this reminded Clint of his own children. “He’s a kid! He’s not trained, why-”

Peter coughed weakly, and opened his eyes. “Nngh… whazgoin’on?”

“Oh, thank God you’re awake,” Tony muttered. He turned to look at his intern, checking for a concussion. “FRIDAY, scan him for injuries.”

“No, don’t-” Peter began, but was cut off by FRIDAY.

**“Peter has an infected stab wound on his abdomen,”** the AI helpfully supplied.  **“He also has a 103.4 degree fever, likely a result of the infection.”**

Everybody was silent for a moment, shocked and speechless. Peter broke the silence and muttered, “Traitor.” 

Tony looked like he was about to explode, but Sam beat him to it. “ _ What the hell??? _ ” the man exclaimed. 

“Yeah, kid, why are you always injured when we run into you?” Clint added, looking suspicious. 

“Stabbed? What the f- did you knife him, Natasha?” Sam shouted. The rest of the Avengers, excluding Vision and Wanda, were acting equally shocked and angry. 

“Peter,  _ what on earth were you thinking?!? _ ” Tony practically yelled, trying to lower his voice when Peter flinched. “You know what, we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you to the MedBay.”

“I think we deserve an explanation,” Steve interjected quietly. 

“Sorry, Capsicle, but can’t it wait?” Tony snapped back as he helped Peter to his feet.

The super-soldier opened his mouth to reply, but Peter beat him to it. “No, it’s ok, Mr. Stark,” the teenager gasped. “We can-  _ nngh _ , ow, we can tell them now.”

Tony exchanged a glance with Peter, who was giving him the  _ please-come-up-with-a-plausible-excuse-so-we-can-get-this-over-with _ look. “Fine,” Tony said grudgingly as he racked his brain for yet another excuse. “The thing is, Peter-”

“Tha’s right, ‘m Spider-Man,” Peter agreed feverishly. 

Everybody froze. 

“Uh…” Tony began, but once the various Avengers started shouting questions, he rubbed his forehead and sighed.  _ Only this kid would announce his identity like that _ , he thought bemusedly. “Well, cat’s out of the bag, I guess,” Tony said. Holding up a hand to deflect questions, he shouted, “Can I please get my kid to the MedBay now?”

The other Avengers grudgingly agreed, and they followed Tony and Peter, peppering the two of them with questions and accusations.

Once Peter was settled and the majority of questions had been answered (and the  _ many _ criticisms handled), Tony sat down next to Wanda. “You didn’t seem surprised,” the billionaire ventured cautiously.

Wanda blushed and fidgeted uncomfortably. “I… I knew,” she whispered, not meeting Tony’s eyes.

“You- what? How?” Tony asked, then paused as the realization dawned. “Oh. Wait. You didn’t…” 

As Wanda nodded in confirmation, Tony fought hard to control his emotions. “Wanda! What the hell!?! You had no right-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said tearfully. “I just- I tried to stop myself, but he just reminded me of Pietro and I was too curious and-” she cut herself off. “I know it was wrong,” she said miserably. 

“It was more than wrong,” Tony began, but was interrupted by a small cough.

“Ugh… hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter rasped. “Hi, Ms. Scarlet Witch!”

“Hi, Peter,” Wanda replied shyly. “You can call me Wanda.”

Peter grinned. “Cool,” he said, trying and failing to hide his internal freak-out for being first-name basis with another badass female Avenger.

Tony crossed his arms. “You, young man, are in a lot of trouble,” the older man said sternly. “What the hell were you thinking, hiding a stab wound like that? You could’ve died?” Peter’s puppy-dog eyes forced Tony to take a few breaths and calm down. “But we’ll talk about that more later,” the billionaire said. “How are you feeling, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said nonchalantly. He stretched a little, wincing only slightly as he pulled on his stitches. 

Wanda stood up rather quickly. “Well, I should go,” she said cautiously, her accented voice quiet. “But Peter… I owe you an apology. When we first met, I invaded your personal privacy and, well, I found out about your secret identity.” She bowed her head, pushing all of the other tragic things she learned about Peter out of her mind. “I’m sorry,” she finished softly.

Peter was silent for a beat. “It’s okay,” he said sincerely. “I don’t blame you for being curious or cautious. If I were in the same situation, I’d be suspicious too,” the teenager said honestly. 

Tony watched the exchange quietly, his anger at Wanda dissipating. This kid was just so damn sweet. The two youngest members of the Avengers family chatted for a few moments more before Wanda leaned down to give Peter a hug, her face full of gratitude. She left a moment later, eyes bright and happy, a small smile on her face. 

Peter looked back at Tony and started chattering once again, going on and on about a corgi he’d met on patrol. The billionaire smiled and leaned back into his chair. Sure, Peter gave him grey hairs on a weekly basis. But that kid was remarkably special to Tony and, well, maybe Peter didn’t know it yet, and Tony wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he knew he loved Peter. 

And he knew that his team wasn’t going to admit it, either, but there was no doubt that they were falling in love with his kid too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Just- wow.  
> From the bottom of my heart- thank every single one of you SO MUCH for reading and leaving a kudos/comment. They literally make my day- I smile every time I read a new comment :)
> 
> Thanks for sticking to the end! For those of you who actually enjoyed this fic, don't worry! There's more to come! The next fic in this series will be _5 Times Peter Made an Avenger Laugh Until They Cried_. I've already got it outlined, so hopefully the first chapter should be up within an hour or two...
> 
> Also, (I know I've said this before but the request still stands...) if anyone would want to do art for this fic I would literally die of happiness! I've tried my own but I'm not particularly talented soooo... yeah. If you're interested scream at me on tumblr (marveloustimes20) or email me at marvelousnc122@gmail.com.
> 
> And finally, I wanted to/am probably going to start a Peter Parker oneshot fic, based entirely off of oneshot requests. So if anyone wants to start me off, I would greatly enjoy hearing any requests :)
> 
> Once again- THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!!! Especially during the pandemic and the stress of school, it's been so nice to be able to escape into this story and it's even better knowing that people actually enjoy it. Love you all!!!!


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